


Scire mortem

by Artisan03



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel, Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Ultimate Spider-Man (Cartoon 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crack Crossover, Crack Treated Seriously, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Gen, My First Fanfic, Other, POV First Person, So much Canon Divergence, You Have Been Warned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-02-29 07:40:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 62,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18774229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artisan03/pseuds/Artisan03
Summary: This is something I started writing as a Freshman in High School. I've recently rediscovered it and started working on it. I apologize for anything horribly cliche--13 year old me was cringe-worthy. Message me with any suggestions, tips, or alerts to anything overly vomit-inducing. I have ambitious plans for this story.Also, I can't promise regular updates. Sorry.Gracias por leyendo.WORK IN PROGRESS--CONSTRUCTION AHEAD---------She had only one purpose to direct her; and that was finding a way back home.





	1. An Introduction--Arcanum Autem Vita

    Manhattan was beautiful at sunrise. 

    The sun reflected off the towering skyscrapers, painting the streets and distant water with rippling gold light. Most people woke up when the sun was already far above them, burning down with a fierce heat. I preferred to be outside when the sun was just waking up, when its light was still gentle and the wind from the East ruffled my hair.

    Not every sunrise was special. Not every sunrise was unique. 

    But they were all beautiful.

 

     I knew that I had been lucky.

     Despite my strange existence, despite my lack of humanity, despite some of my less pleasant experiences, there was so much that  _could_ have happened, but  _hadn't._  All is one. One is all. The world is an ever-turning wheel. By accepting what had happened, I had enabled myself to help other victims of fickle fortune.

     At some point, I had learned to embrace my waning sense of self-hatred. I had had learned to accept what I had become; after all, it was either accept my unnatural existence, or let my self-hatred consume me. 

     ...got a bit too deep there. Let's fast-forward back to the present. 

     There are very few feelings that can compare with the joy of flight. Helicopter and aeroplane pilots took to the skies every hour, but they were normal people sitting in glorified tin cans. Skydiving was similar; it romanticized the idea of plummeting towards the Earth, confusing controlled falling with flying. But even skydiving didn't let you experience  _true_ freedom--the ability to go wherever you wanted, in whichever direction you wanted to go.

    Very few people would ever experience the raw joy of flight. The _rush_ of feeling the wind across your face, the  _thrill_ of throwing yourself into the clouds--which actually wasn’t such a good idea. Too much moisture plus soaring at 40,000 feet would make for a very cold experience if you didn't have a jacket.

    Despite encountering some of the (less obvious) drawbacks of flight, which I endured in a pointless attempt to re visit and categorize that electrifying sensation, I had cultivated a strange sense of attachment for this particular ability.

    I loved and hated my gift, my freedom. The wings were beautiful and ugly at the same time; they bestowed a freedom no one else had. But they represented the price I had unwittingly paid when I was sent to this God-forsaken dimension.

     Not that God had ever cared about _any_ dimension. It was hard to care about anything when you didn't exist. 

     Let me be clear; there were, of course, the mythological beings of power that were tied strictly to _this_  universe: the Greek gods, the Roman gods, the Celtic gods, etc. But there wasn't a  _God._

     There was only _Truth._

 Truth,that omnipotent, omnipresent bastard who seemed content with screwing my life up by booting me off to a strange dimension and leaving me to rot for a millennia. 

     I suspected _It_ took pleasure in my initial confusion, my inability to understand where I had been sent. That had been ages ago, when I still thought I had a chance of getting back home. It took me decades to figure out that I didn't belong on this world. \

    When that sank in, I tried the only other thing I could think of.

     Turns out wings weren't the only _gift_ Truth had generously bestowed upon me. Apparently, I couldn't die.

     'Cause, yeah. That was a thing.

     I had tried, of course--drowning, hanging, burning to death. Other people had tried, too.

     It never worked.

     So, here I was, an immortal teenager stuck in a strange dimension, currently circling the skies of Manhattan while I waited for the sun to finish rising.

     It could be worse.

    I slowed the beat of my wings and swooped down to the edge of the cloud line. At this height, I suppose a person on the ground would take one look at me an write me off as an unusually-shaped bird. I took the opportunity to examine the city that spilled out beneath me. Manhattan was beautiful at sunrise, but I had seen this several times before now.

    That’s what I did when my mind refused to sleep--I flew, usually until the next morning. 

     I landed outside a dense patch of foliage, careful to avoid hitting my wings on any branches as I carefully made my way through the trees. I had left all my belongings in a tent near a dead, hollowed-out tree--its ghostly branches stood out in stark defiance of the surrounding sea of green. Made it easy enough to find, but I would probably have to move soon (camping wasn't strictly forbidden in this patch of forest, but after 2 months I was leaning more towards the squatting side of the homeless spectrum).

     Besides, if I stayed in one place too long someone was bound to notice my tent--and from there, it was only a matter of time before they found the person who owned the tent. Maybe I could hang out at Camp-Half Blood for a while. If I was being completely honest with myself, there were times I missed living with others; it was rather lonely with no one to really talk to--excepting, of course, myself. 

     Was it bad that I considered myself a decent substitute for human interaction?

     Of course not. I was just a...what was it called again? An introvert. I was just an introvert. Nothing dubious or concerning going on here. No siree Bob.

     I peeled off my wet jacket and pulled on some of the clothes I had recently washed at a shady coin laundromat. Quickly snatching my backpack, I took a running start and leapt, my body going impossibly high as I spread my wings once again before the azure sky. I never flew all the way to the school I was currently attending because the risk of being seen rose exponentially as I got closer to Manhattan's city limits. Not to mention that now, I had to worry about that up-and-coming vigilante Spiderman. He sounded like a great guy and all, but he attracted the wrong sort of attention--and I didn’t need SHIELD to become any _more_ aware of my presence in New York. Besides, there was always the chance that one of Spiderman's "fans" from the Daily Bugle newspaper would catch the vigilante interacting with another would-be superhero (a.k.a. yours truly). It was already difficult enough to hide from secret government organizations like SHIELD; I didn't need the added stress of media coverage when I was already struggling to keep a low profile. Eventually, someone from SHIELD would come and check it out and I would probably be detained. At the very least, I would become common knowledge and would be pestered almost constantly.

     At worst, I would be collared and experimented on.

     I flew as far as I could, looking for a convenient construction site I could land in; no construction company in their right mind would start working when the sun wasn't even up. I spotted a newly reconstructed apartment building and landed on the more stable-looking portion of the roof. I glanced at the temporary garbage chute for a moment and considered my options, before finally deciding to take the stairs. Apparently work on this apartment complex had advanced far enough to put in glass windows, but not far enough to actually lock the doors--something I was grateful for. Soon enough I was stepping out the front door, surreptitiously closing it behind me as I made my way onto the sidewalk and headed towards Midtown.

     It was nice, being one of the few walking on the streets (or sidewalk). My only company consisted of a few wobbly people drunk out of their minds and the occasional over-enthusiastic dog-walker. The peace wouldn’t last for long, but I tried to enjoy it. With bustling crowds came trouble, and I really did try to avoid that as much as possible.

     Unfortunately, trouble always seemed to find me.

     An hour later I was still making my way through the city. I stopped at the entrance of an alleyway, asking myself for the millionth time why I hadn't just hailed a taxi. As I watched the surges of people pass by my little alley-way, I listened to a hundred-foot-tall news reporter called James Jonah Jameson ( I wonder if he bullied as a kid...) rattle off an entire list of reasons why Spiderman was such a menace. The dead hamster (read: mustache) above his lips made me crack a smile.

     All of a sudden, I heard tires squealing and a huge bang, along with a very large, very loud, very wet _plop_. I walked towards the commotion, which sounded like it was coming from the street at the other end of my alley. I took in the scene, half-hidden by some shadows and a conveniently-placed group of garbage cans--it looked like an armored truck had been making its usual rounds when _something_ attacked it. The wheels of the truck had been stuck to the asphalt with some sort of...glue?

     Probably some advanced form of polyurethane. Some buff guy wearing a big metal backpack with an attached nozzle made his way inside the truck, carrying two carpet bags.  As far as I could tell, the man was just interested in taking the money. A blaring police car made its way around the corner, only to be covered with the same polyurethane mixture that was trapping the tires of the armored truck. Without any way to see, the police car skidded in circles until it was finally about to crash into the glass display window of a nearby cake shop. I winced, preparing for the oncoming _CRASH_ to fill the air.

      A web shot out just in time to catch the police car...though the front of the shop was still utterly destroyed. The cop inside crawled out and searched for his savior. “I’m starting to think Jameson’s wrong about you, Spidey," he said, gazing at a certain web-headed ‘menace’ who was currently crawling down the side of a nearby apartment building.

     “Spread the word chief.” Spidey raised a hand in a salute. The hero sounded young, like he was in his late teens--he couldn't be older than, what, seventeen? This was the first time I had the opportunity to actually see Spiderman in action, and I planned on paying close attention. I hadn't had the opportunity to learn much about him before, and I was more than willing to take this chance to examine the vigilante-hero in his natural element. And anyway, if he managed to royally screw up, then someone would have to keep the innocent bystanders from getting maimed and/or killed.

     The buff man inside the armed truck slowly emerged, pointing the spray nozzle at the webslinger. “Hiya bug-boy." He grinned. " I knew that would draw you out.”

     Bug-boy?--actually, not a terrible nickname. The two seemed to have a stare off, right until the man--Trickster? Glue-guy? No, Trapster (I had read his SHIELD file at some point)--shot for Spiderman. Spider-boy managed to dodge the shot and followed with a sharp uppercut to Trapster’s chin.

     From what I could see, he was doing surprisingly well despite his apparent lack of demigod or magical anscestry. Trapster was thrown into a car next to the sidewalk, but got up quickly, leaving the crumpled hood of the now crushed tin-can with little difficulty. He threw some sort of glue-bomb (I mean, what else was I supposed to call it?) at Spidey, who got plastered against the wall behind him. Trapster took aim with the spay nozzle, but Spiderman managed to shoot inside the spray-glue-gun _thingie_ , causing the metal canister on Glue-guy's back to explode, trapping the Trapster in a pile of goop.

     Bug-boy walked over to Trapster--who was conveniently in the center of the destroyed street--and  followed up with his trademark.

     “This is when I leave the friendly neighborhood Spiderman note." he teen said, cocking his head. "Can I borrow a pen?” Even if he managed to destroy an entire city block, at least the hero retained his lighthearted attitude. 

      All of a sudden, a shadow fell over the block, covering the buildings in shades of black and grey. The SHIELD helicarrier was coming in low, which was surprising--Trapster wasn't on SHIELD's 'Most Wanted' list; he had barely made the lowest tier of SHIELD's 'Most Annoying' list. I quietly slipped out the opposite side of my alleyway, coming out to the street and walking away like nothing had happened. The sun was getting higher and higher in the sky--if I didn’t hurry I’d be late for school, which would eliminate my chances at  _finally_ getting that elusive perfect attendance award.

 

\---------

 

     Normal school was, without a doubt, the most boring place ever. Imagine putting Michelangelo in a kindergarten finger-painting class, or asking Einstein how a potato clock works--ridiculous, right? Now imagine  _me,_ in _English 101_ with a bunch of _angsty teens_. It wasn't that I knew everything there was to know--I just knew everything I needed to, like the basics of photon acceleration and triple integrals; and yet here I was, trying to fit in at Midtown High--the least exciting, least interesting high school on the face of the planet. I almost wished I was back at Hogwarts--almost.

     The lunch bell rang, and I gathered up my things. I usually went up to the roof to eat, but I’d have to navigate the halls to do that. Every time the bell would ring, they’d fill as fast as possible and were almost impossible to get through quickly. And then there was Flash. Flash Thompson was a bully who tended to pick on the ‘nerds’. I looked to where he was now. Today, his victim was a boy named ‘Peter Parker’.

     I could've walked away. In fact, I should've. Instead, watching Peter being bullied sparked something inside me, and my blood boiled.

     So I did something stupid. Something I would probably regret.

     I walked over quickly.

     “Hey Peter, c’mon. We don’t want to have to wait in line to get lunch.” He looked at me like I was crazy, but I stared intently at him, trying to somehow signal him to go along with it. Thankfully, musclehead was too busy talking to notice our not-so-subtle exchange.

     “Ooooohhh, Parker’s got a girlfriend," Flash grinned, his beady eyes locking onto a new target.

     My eyes narrowed and I sneered, even as I hunched my shoulders even more, “Shut up, Flash."

 

 

     “Excuse me?” He turned around, forgetting all about Peter. I bared my teeth angrily.

     “No wonder _you_ don’t have a girlfriend.” Low blow, I know, but it was effective, based on how red-faced the bully got.

     “Well, at least I don’t have a loser for a boyfriend!” He snapped back.

     I paused for a minute, looking at Flash.

     “Never knew you swung that way,” I said, curling my lips into a smirk. Flash sputtered something unintelligible about my mother (may she rest in peace) while I scoffed.

     “I’m so offended” I said, rolling my eyes, “Why don’t I just go crawl into my hidey-hole and bawl my eyes out? Come on, Peter.” I grabbed the kid’s arm and dragged him with me to the cafeteria.

     We reached the table he and his friends occupied most frequently and stopped. Peter shuffled awkwardly.

     "Ummmm….,” he said, “...thanks. But why’d you help me?”

     “Because I wanted to. You're in my Calc and Physics classes, and I thought, 'Why not help out a fellow nerd?'" I smiled, not unkindly. As far as I could tell, Peter Parker was one of those quiet science geeks who could--and would--do some good in the world. I glanced around the cafeteria, trying to ignore the way he was hovering by me. "Are your friends coming soon?” I asked, still searching the cafeteria.

     “Yeah” He scratched his neck awkwardly.

     “Cool. I’ll leave, then. Just don’t leave them for the rest of the day, if you can help it." I said, sighing. "I have a feeling that Flash’ll be back with a vengeance if he can get you alone.” I gave him a Cheshire grin and turned to leave. 

     “Hey wait!” I turned back around.

     “Do you want to sit with my friends and I?” Peter asked. Somehow, the kid’s friends had magically materialized; a redheaded girl--Mary J. Watson, I think--and the ever-so-famous Harry Osborne.

     “These are your friends?” I recognized them, had seen Peter hanging out with them before, but I wanted to make sure before leaving Parker in their dubiously capable teenage hands.

     “Yeah. So? Want to eat lunch with us?” Peter looked at me with the hint of a smile on his lips.

     “No, I think I'll pass." I said back. I saw no need to forcefully insert myself into whatever weird triangle of friendship they had going on. "Go eat lunch with people you know. Don’t waste your time with me.” I walked away as Peter--perhaps a little hesitantly--turned back to his friends and pursed my lips, absentmindedly trying to whistle

I never did get the hang of whistling.

     As I continued down the hall I considered my options for the day. Maybe I should just ditch school today--I could feel my brain rotting with every minute I spent in this white-washed prison.

 

\-----------

 

     “Who was that Peter?” Mary Jane asked, slinging her arm around Peter's shoulder and steering him to sit at their lunch table.

     “Yeah, do you finally have a girlfriend?" Harry smirked, setting down his tray.

     “C’mon Harry,” Peter groaned. Was that all anyone could ever think about? First Flash, and now his friends. Peter turned to M. J. ”I don’t know who she is. I think she’s in a few of my classes, but I haven't really talked to her before. Actually, I don't think I've talked to her before today--she stopped Flash from sticking me in my locker again.” 

     Harry groaned as he sat down. "Locker-knocker time  _again?_ "  

     M. J. smiled sympathetically. "You know, Peter, I can't believe he's still doing that after all these years. You should stand up to him, show him that you're not that easy to push around." her voice gained enthusiasm with every word as Harry started chuckling.

     "Yeah, Peter," Harry grinned, "how long has Flash been bullying you, now?"

     "Too long." Peter replied sullenly, finally taking a seat next to M. J. "You know, maybe it's time--"

      _BOOM._

     The entire cafeteria shook, students screaming and running from the crumbling hole that had just been blasted through the cafeteria wall. Three figure emerged from the flying clouds of dust, revealing themselves to be Thundra, The Wizard, and Klaw.

    As the dust settled, Wizard spoke. “We are the Frightful Four, and we have reason to believe that _Spiderman_ attends this school!”

 

    ... _Well, shit._

 

\----------

       

     I had (finally) made my way out of the school, and I was now heading to a nearby pizzeria. I worked at a MgRonald’s after school, so I could get discounted meals there, but hanging out at work while I was supposed to be in school wasn’t really an option. I still wanted lunch, though, so as an (for all intents and purposes) immortal teenager, pizza was the obvious choice.

     I heard a muffled crash and looked up, taking out my earbuds to listen for any screams--there was dust billowing in the direction of the school. My first thought: I should go to help--

     --but aside from overeager superheroes, there was also SHIELD to consider. I didn't want to step in unless a situation was really desperate, since acting within full view of half the city would blow the cover I had carefully maintained for nearly seventy years. Besides, the helicarrier had interfered this morning when _Trapster_ was detained--there was no way an attack on a High School would escape their attention. I put my head back down and put my earbuds back in. Until SHIELD lost control, I was going to stay out of superhero business. Besides, if they found out about _me,_ they could find out about Hogwarts, Wizards, Camp-Half-Blood, and Monsters--and, you know, _me_ \--and that would most definitely _not_ be good.

         I walked into the pizzeria and ordered quickly, walking out with a glorious, piping hot pepperoni delicacy. I hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday, and the pizza was a mouth-watering piece of art. I resisted the urge to eat it yet--I could smell rain in the air. Hopefully I’d get off work before it started, but that was unlikely.

     Oh well.

     That’s what I get for not owning an umbrella.

 

\---------

 

        My shift at MgRonalds ended quickly, and it wasn't long before I was making my way to the outer edges of the city. I was going to try and break into SHIELD’s databases again tonight, but first I had to make my way to the helicarrier. I reached a nondescript, abandoned sea-side harbor, covered in layers of grime and graffiti, and let my wings emerge. Running to the edge of the dock and jumping off, I snapped my wings open and pushed down, _hard_ , getting back into the rhythm of flying. Soon enough I was spiraling upwards, the pelting rain feeling like hundreds of tiny needles against my body.

     Last time I had... _visited_...the SHIELD helicarrier, I had set off the alarms almost immediately. As I got climbed upwards, though, red lights and blaring alarms filled the air--it seemed that SHIELD already had an unwelcome visitor. I climbed higher to get a better view of the topmost part of the helicarrier, the sound of battle drawing me closer until a flash of red and blue spandex quickly gave away the culprit.

     There was Spiderman, in all his arachnid-esque glory, dodging flying projectiles and automated defense bots. Had SHIELD finally tried to recruit him?--no, they wouldn't be attacking him if they wanted to recruit him. Or would they?

     Nick Fury's mind had always worked in strange ways; you could practically  _smell_ the crazy on him.

     Until I knew more about Spiderman, I would just follow my normal protocol; I'd have to be careful not to let him--or anyone else--see me. I set down on the helicarrier and crouched on one knee. I could feel the energy coursing through me as I clapped my hands together and slapped them on the surface of the helicarrier. The red light went unnoticed amongst the explosions.

     I dissolved my wings again and dropped through the newly-made hole, hurrying through the halls. I just needed to find a port and a keyboard, and I would be set. I looked through several doors and saw workers rushing around like a disturbed nest of agitated ants. In the commotion, I sat down at a computer, plugged in my USB, and started downloading--no, it's not that simple, and _no_ , I'm not going into more detail about the whole process. The world doesn't need a bunch of not-so-super-villains who are magically able to hack into secure SHIELD files.

     Throughout my (many) previous visits, I had downloaded all the files except for the ones concerning rogue mutants and superheroes who had yet to be put under the thumb of SHIELD. These files were apparently some of the most encrypted since, in the event that SHIELD _was_ hacked, SHIELD didn’t want whoever did the hacking to be able to turn potential allies into very bad (or very dead) not-allies.

     After twenty tense minutes, the files had finished un-encrypting and downloading onto the USB, so I carefully pulled it out and silently exited the room, fighting the urge to break into a run as soon as I saw the hall was empty. I had to hurry and get out before anyone noticed my presence, but I had to avoid being conspicuous, had to avoid drawing attention to myself. I quickly retraced my steps back to the hole in the ceiling I had created, but stopped when I saw who was waiting for me in the shadows of the no longer empty hallway.

      “So, we finally meet.” In front of me was a red-haired, black-suited beauty who was well-known in most underground circles.

      Black Widow, professional spy. Master of several forms of defense, excelling at hand-to-hand combat, and capable of imagining 100 different ways to dispatch her opponent in very few seconds. However, the woman in front of me was also less-commonly known as Natasha Romanoff, secret SHIELD agent, and thee ultimate _femme fatale_.

      To be honest, her skill set made me nervous. I wasn’t entirely out of my league, and if worst came to worst I could probably pull out some of the cards I had hidden up my sleeves--but she was a professional at hand-to-hand combat, and very experienced. And I did  _not_ want to get held up long enough for backup to arrive.

        “Not much of a talker, then?" she said as the shadows behind her shifted, revealing Clint Barton, also known as Hawkeye, in all his blonde, blue-eyed glory. He spoke, sharp eyes piercing through my hooded stare. "You know, you’ve been perplexing Fury for quite some time. I have to admit, it would be entertaining if you weren’t a legitimate threat. So, are you going to come quietly?” Were they talking because they wanted to give me a chance to escape? Unlikely--they had been lying in wait for me. Or were they stalling? Hawkeye's file had mentioned his talkative tendencies, but Black Widow was more of the 'silent but deadly' type. I had to admit, I was a bit flattered that I was a worthy target for SHIELD's famous STRIKE team--even if their presence made my escape about a hundred times harder.

      I brought my hand up to my face, checking to make sure my hood was still up. If I flew straight up to the hole, maybe I would be able fit through it before--my head whipped around at the sound of footsteps. More people were coming down the hallway--two, from the sounds of things. The dynamic duo must have noticed too, and and three of us looked towards the two figures who had joined us. SHIELD Director Nick Fury, in all his silent glory, stood next to a wet, very bedraggled-looking Spiderman.

     Guess they  _were_ trying to recruit the superhero.

     Natasha spoke. “That the kid?” I really didn't remember her being this chatty in her files.

     “Yeah” Finally, Director Fury; a normal, stoically silent SHIELD operative. Even if he did have a pirate eye patch.

     “Good. Give us a hand?” Hawkeye nodded towards Spider man, who jumped at the sudden question. I slunk along the wall, making my way closer to the jagged hole in the ceiling.

      “You want my help? But with what? Them?” he gestured towards me, and I froze in my tracks, still trying to blend into the wall behind me. It didn't work, and Spiderman just looked at me strangely.

     “Okaaay." he drew the word out like a rubber band, snapping it back into place as he asked another question. "Are you another bad guy? Am I going to have to kick your butt too?”

     I looked at him with a hint of longing--wondering what it was like to be that gung-ho about obliterating evil--before I spoke in a quiet voice. “You guys really are fun. Really." They seemed shocked to hear me say anything. Was this the first time I had spoken to SHIELD agents? I suppose I did sound rather young for someone able to break into SHIELD as many times as I have over the years. “I should cause a ruckus more often," I continued, "--it's entertaining.” I smiled at their confusion. Good. It was never good to give SHIELD a clear train of thought to follow. Making them focus on little details kept them safely away from the bigger picture.

      And besides, it was fun to mess with people.

      “Who do you work for?” Fury said. Always suspicious, he was. Always _looking_ for the agenda, the 'master plan'. I suppose that’s why he was chosen as Director, though.

       “Not telling.” With my hood still up, they couldn’t see anything other than the cavernous darkness that hung over my face. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other places to be.” I ran for the hole, ignoring the movements of the three SHIELD agents and Spiderman's fumbling. Within moments, I had unfurled my wings and taken off.

 

\---------

 

     Soon enough, I was back in my tent, pulling out my old, scratched and patched-up laptop, and plugged in my USB. “Time to see what they’ve got.” I chuckled to myself.

     Part of the reason I wanted this list was to see how much info they had on me, and whether they thought I was a threat. The other reason I hacked SHIELD was to see if they were monitoring any demigods or wizards. I tried to keep track of any threats to the secrecy of both the magical and mythological worlds--it was kind of like a, "You scratch my back, I protect your existence," sort of deal.

Besides, SHIELD was probably the best database in the world for information on modern events, other spy agencies, and forays into nee scientific fields--most specifically, forays into inter-dimensional travel. I had hoped that there would be a way for me to get home, but so far nothing had turned up. The next step was to write Albus and ask him if I could use the Hogwarts library to search for a--insert shudder-- _magical_ solution. I had wanted to avoid it, but I was running out of options.

      I pulled up the files I had downloaded onto the USB and started scrolling down the list. There were several plain (but interesting?) codenames, like ‘Cloak’ and ‘Dagger’. I looked at those first, searching for myself, or my...associates. I found on a file named ‘Oceanus’ (now that was an interesting code name) only to see a picture of the one and only infamous Perseus Jackson pop up. Wonderful. I read their profile of him--there were articles about Perseus' fall from the Gateway Arch and his 'kidnapping' incident a couple years ago, not to mention a lengthy section describing his school-related 'accidents' and subsequent expulsions. I still didn't understand why Chiron let him leave camp, even after his godly parent was revealed. Thankfully, SHIELD weren’t too suspicious of the demigod's position as a potential terrorist. However, I would still have to get this to Chiron. The increases in technological advancement had made gathering information all too easy for certain organization--which was what made breaking into SHIELD so useful. But this increasing ability to put two and two together had definitely brought the wrong sort of attention to monsters and demigods alike--I didn't believe that SHIELD was the only group suspicious of supposedly 'troubled' teenagers who all went to the same summer camp. I sighed and scrolled a little farther on the list of files--there it was. 

     Or, rather, there _I_ was.

     I opened up my profile (they had apparently named me 'Crow'--ridiculous, right?), and saw that they had very little information on me. Good--I wanted to keep it that way. The only things they had managed to pin down were that I was (most likely) female, I had wings and likely some sort of energy-based power, and I was interested in SHIELD’s information. They had most likely gleaned this much because of my frequent visits. However, now that I had finally acquired the last major files I was missing, I could reduce my visits to once every year (depending on the amount of interesting occurrences and information I wanted to...borrow [steal]).

     I looked at the time on the bottom right corner of my computer screen and nearly had a heart attack--it was already the next morning. I had spent all night reading through the SHIELD files, and I wasn't even halfway done.

      The weak sunlight struggled to reach me through the thick fabric of the tent as I got dressed. I was getting ready a little later than usual, but I could afford it, so long as I landed inside the city instead of stopping on the outskirts. I stuffed my laptop into my bag--I was bringing it today because I wanted to finish looking over the files from SHIELD. After a running start I jumped, unfurling my wings. Even though I never got bored of flying, it would still take some time to get to Midtown High.

      But, now that I done gathering info from SHIELD, I didn't have to attend Midtown High School anymore...I could move back to Camp-Half Blood. I’d have to give Chiron a call and see if he could negotiate my transfer in a parent-principal conference. Or maybe I could just get myself expelled. I’d have to quit my job, too, but I’d worry about that later today. For now, I was trying to think of a covert place to land

 

\---------

 

        I made my way through the piles of junk, careful not to get cut by the many jagged pieces of rusted metal. It wasn’t like any injuries would last very long, but I really liked my hoodie and couldn’t really afford to rip any more holes in any of my clothes.

        This junkyard wasn’t too close to the school, and seemed devoid of people. Ergo, it made the best available place for me to land. Though I didn’t like landing so close to where I could be seen, I had used this junkyard before. I turned a corner and stopped at what I saw.

        “Flash?!”

        The teenager in question whipped around, just as surprised as I was. “Who are you? What are you doing here? How do you know my name?”

        “I go to your school.” He didn’t even remember who I was.

        “Wait a minute, you’re the girl who knows puny-I mean, Parker! What are you doing here?”

       “Uh...taking a shortcut to school. Better question is, what are you doing here?”

       “Nothing! I just...uhh...I...I was working on my car yesterday when I noticed how much...extra scrap metal I had, so I decided to...drop it off here. On my way to school. Yeah.”

       I raised my eyebrows. “You live here, don’t you.” It wasn’t really a question. And it wasn’t really that hard to figure out. The Flash from school wouldn’t be caught dead in  a junkyard, but I had all too much experience with fake facades.

       “No I don’t!”

       "Allright, allright.” I raised my hands in a placating gesture before dropping them. Now it made sense as to why he was a bully. He didn’t have much in life, but he didn’t want anyone to know. If they did, he’d probably have been teased as mercilessly as the kids he picked on. Not that that made it right--it’s just I could kind-of relate. Kind-of. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone. I’m quitting school soon, anyway.”

        “Why?”

        I laughed. “You’re not the only one with a secret life, Flash. Just keep this in mind--The measure of a man is how he’s touched the lives of those around him.”

        “Uhh…sure...” I took one look at his furrowed brows and sighed.

        “...Nevermind.” I turned to leave

        “Hey wait! You promise you won’t tell anyone, right?”

        “Yeah, don’t spend your time worrying about me.” I gave a two-fingered salute and walked away, leaving Flash to mull over what I said.

        Then again, he probably wouldn’t do much of that. I just hoped he didn’t waste his time worrying about what I might do. I obviously wasn’t going to tell anyone, but I didn’t want him to wind up worrying that I might. I stopped walking. I was being utterly ridiculous, and overthinking the problem way too much. High School was actually making me worry!

      I started walking again, a little slower now, determined not to care if I arrived late.

 

      I arrived at the school as soon as the first bell rang—and as soon as Flash did. I hurried into the school building, not even glancing his way. As soon as I got into my first class, I sat down in the back and pulled out my laptop. If the teacher asked, I could just say that I was take notes or something. The teacher probably wouldn’t even care, though.

       School went by in a blur, and before I knew it, it was time for lunch. I hadn’t found much else of interest in the SHIELD files, but there had been a note on Spiderman’s file. It looked like they were planning to stick him with a bunch of newbie-superheroes. I looked up. The worst of the crowd of kids had already made their way to the cafeteria…except for Flash. Once again, he was trying to force the Peter kid into a locker. I walked up (again) and said, quite clearly, “Flash. Leave him be.”

       He turned towards me, and a jolt of recognition flashed in his eyes.  He shoved Peter into the lockers again, but then turned and walked away.  

     Was I pissed? Yes. Did I currently want to cave his face in? Of course. Did I realize that this was the perfect opportunity to get myself expelled? There wasn’t a doubt in my mind. Did I punch the sorry jerk? Unfortunately, no.

      “Sorry about that. I just don’t like bullies. You okay?” I pulled Peter out of his locker and handed him his backpack, which he grabbed and draped over one shoulder.

       Peter just nodded and stood silently for a few more seconds before he said, ”Can you teach me your trick?” he smiled.

      “Oh." I blinked. "There isn’t really a trick. Hey, where are your friends?” I remembered yesterday that he had agreed it was a good idea to stick close to his friends while Flash might still be out for revenge.

      “Didn’t you hear? Harry’s in the hospital because of the attack yesterday, and MJ’s out trying to get an interview with that Spiderman guy.”Peter adjusted his grip on his backpack as he spoke. I couldn't tell if he was nervous or just worried.

     “Someone actually attacked Midtown High? I thought this place was supposed to be the most boring school on the planet." Honestly, the one day I skipped out on school, something interesting had happened. I remembered seeing a giant plume of dust tising from around the school yesterday, but I didn't expect some villian to be brave (or stupid) enough to actually attack a school. I was willing to bet that whichever villain had attacked Midtown was current being hunted down by SHIELD's local forces.

     “Yeah. Didn’t you know?”

     “No, I left early.”

     “Oh.” Parker shifted a bit awkwardly, not really knowing what to say.

     “Is Harry okay?” It seemed like the right thing to ask--I mean, the guy was in the hospital.

     “Yeah. He’s just going to have to stay in the hospital for the next day or so.” Peter smiled a little brighter, but he kept glancing down the hall, towards the cafeteria. I decided to have.pity on him.

     “I’m sorry. Hey, I’m probably keeping you from your lunch. I’ll leave you be.” I finally turned to leave.

     “Hey wait!” I turned back, feelin an odd sort of deja vu. “Come and sit with me!”

     Um. What? No.

 

     “You’re always alone. So come and eat lunch with MJ and me.”This kid was way to trusting. What, I save him from getting bullied twice, and suddenly I'm Buddah?

     “Oh. That's nice of you, but—“

     “Hey, Parker!” A new voice interrupted me before I could finish, and I valiantly fought the urge to sigh in exasperation.

     Both Peter and I turned towards a group of people who were coming our way. There were four of them--a, for lack of a better descriptor, "buff" African American guy, a _short_ Hispanic guy, a blonde surfer dude, and a Hispanic girl. Talk about cultural diversity.

     Peter looked at them for a bit before finally asking, “Wait, do I know you? _Any_ of you?”

     “Say hello to your new classmates. I’m Danny Rand.” Surfer dude spoke like a surfer.

     “Luke Cage,” _man_ was this guy buff! He looked like the kind of person who cracked walnuts open for fun.

     “Sam Alexander,” even though I knew his name, I still had the inexplicable urge to call this kid Sparky.

     “Eva Allala.” Now she seemed like an intellectual. Someone who played chess, who made lists for the sake of making lists.

Seeing Peter's confusion, Eva spoke again. “ Think about it.”

     We all stared at Peter as he did a double take, his jaw nearly hitting the floor.

     Sam spoke, his tone more than a little sarcastic, “Oh yeah, some idiot gave Fury the bright idea that we needed ‘me time’, away from SHIELD”."

I furrowed my brows. What did these kids have to do with SHIELD?

     The girl named Eva had been staring at me since her little quartet had walked up (I mean, I kind of assumed she was the leader of this rag-tag representational group). “Hey, who’s this?” she asked, and suddenly turned towards Parker. What, she couldn't be bothered to ask me? I mean, I was standing right there.

      Peter glanced at me and then said, nervously, “Heeey, this is great. Really, really…great. I just gotta go...talk to..a guy.” he ran off, as fast as he could.

     “I wonder what’s up.” I said quietly.

     “Who knows. He’s a real web-head.” The kid named Sam had spoken. I looked at him, eyebrow raised, and he seemed to realize what he had said. “I...I mean...I don’t really like Spiderman, so that’s kind of my insult. Anyway, I’m Same. I mean, Sam.”

     “Yeah, I got that.” This kid (whoever he was) was weird. I turned to walk away.

     “Hey, aren’t you going to tell us your name?”

     “Nope.” I didn’t trust them. And there wasn’t any point to getting to know these people--I’d be leaving soon, anyways. I sighed and made my way to the front office. As I didn’t have a phone myself, I’d have to use one of theirs to call Chiron--it was time to get out of here.

     It didn't take long to convince the lady at the front desk to let me borrow her phone--though she did look at me for a moment when I told her I didn't have one of my own. She was probably trying to figure out whether I was lying or not, but I just plastered a smile on my face and held it there until she handed over her office phone.

     I had to tell her what the number was (apparently office phones were so technologically advanced that teenagers couldn't be trusted to work them on their own) and after a few rings, there was a *click* as someone picked up the only (publicly known) phone in all of Camp Half-Blood. The phone looked like a traditional landline phone, but had been...charmed? magicked? by Hermes to allow for untraceable communication for those demigods and satyrs that were sent out into the normal world, but looked "too young" to make their own decisions. The phone sat in the Big House and was rarely used; in fact, few campers knew it existed unless they had to.  

      “Hello?" a voice spoke through the receiver. "May I ask who this is?”

      “Hey Chiron.” I responded, only a little wary as I considered what I could talk about in front of the office lady, who had begun typing something on her computer.

      “Oh, hello again Raven. How are you doing?” Chiron's tone lightened considerably when he discovered it was me on the other end of the phone.

      “I’m all right." I smiled, even though he couldn't see me. "Hey, can you come down to Midtown High? I’d like to get out of here, but they need the consent of a parent or guardian. I could just leave, but I’d rather not raise any flags.” After all, I might want to use this alias in the future--I didn't want to give anyone a troubled history to trace.

      “Are you sure?" he sounded hesitant. "It might be good for you to finish a full year of school...”

      “Chiron, the only reason I agreed to go to school here in the first place was because it provided a decent cover story." 'For my SHIELD helicarrier excursions.' I finished silently, glancing at the office lady in front of me who was still typing away on her computer.

      “Very well." Chiron sighed. "If you’re sure, then I’m sure I can have Argus bring me over tomorrow. Can you set up an appointment?”

      “Yeah...just give me a moment." I glanced at the office lady and spoke. "Excuse me?"

      She looked up, horn-rimmed glasses flashing with light. "What is it?”

      “Do you know how I could set up a meeting with the principal?” I asked, plastering another polite smile on my face.

      “May I ask what time you’d like to have the conference? And what would it be for?” she asked expectantly, bringing something up on her computer screen and positioning her hands above her keyboard.

      I glanced at the reflection in her glasses--she had brought up some sort of calendar on her computer. I spoke, remembering when Chiron had said he could come over. “I am planning to withdraw from this school.”

      “Is it because of the recent attack?” She asked, looking at me over the edge of her glasses. Did she even need them? Or were they just for reading?

      In a city where SHIELD, superheroes, and various villains made their homes, I wasn't surprised their was an attack on Midtown. Still, using yesterday's attack would give me the perfect excuse to leave. “Yes, my guardians have become concerned because of recent disturbances in Manhattan.”

      “Well, you wouldn’t be the first one. Do you have a preferred date?"

     “Tomorrow?”

      “That should work." she said with one eyebrow raised. "What time?” she asked, putting something else into her computer.

      I crossed my fingers, hoping that I wouldn't have to guess a hundred different times before I found one that worked.

      “What about 3:30?” I asked, biting the inside of my cheek.

      “All right. 3:30, tomorrow.  May I have your ID, and the name  of your guardian?” she smiled, waiting for my answer.

      “All right.” I handed my school ID to her.

      "Marrissa? That’s a pretty name."

      To be honest, I had forgotten which name I had used for my school ID.

      “Thank you, ma’am. Oh--and the name of my guardian is Chiron. Chiron Brunner.” I smiled again before speaking once more into the phone. "Chiron, are you still there?"

     "Yes" I could hear the smile in his voice. "Have you established a time?"

     "Is 3:30 okay for you?”

     “Of course." there was a muffled crash on his end, as well as what sounded like shouting. "I’m sorry to cut this so short, but it seems the Stolls have played another of their pranks on the Ares cabin.” Chiron said quickly as weariness seeped into his voice.

      I laughed. “Don’t worry about me. Just keep them alive until I can get revenge on them for my Birthday.”

      He ended the call, and I put the phone down. The lady at the front desk looked at me strangely, and I smiled in return. "Thank you for letting me borrow your phone."       

      “You're welcome." She said, eyes already drifting back towards her computer screen, whose reflection shone white in her eyes. "You have a nice day, alright?” she said, no longer looking at me as she went back to doing whatever she was doing before I came along

       “Yeah, you too.” I mumbled, walking out of the office and past the voices coming out of the principal’s office.

        That’s when I heard it.

       “No can do. Fury wants you where he can keep an eye on you.” said an authoritative-sounding voice--though I didn't recognize it as the principal's.

      Peter came storming out and bumped into me. He mumbled an apology (or something that sounded like it) before hurrying on, talking to himself the whole way. I was incredibly confused at this point. What did Fury want with Peter? I watched him go, slightly concerned—wait. Wait, I had seen the name ‘Peter Parker’ before in the SHIELD files, I was sure of it! I just had to find out where!

     I practically ran to my next class, plunked myself down, got my laptop out and opened the SHIELD files. I typed in the keywords ‘Peter Parker’. When I saw what came up, I couldn’t help but let loose a strangled chuckle. Peter Parker...was Spiderman! The nerdy science kids who was always being bullied by Flash was secretly a superhero that could bench-press buses. But then...then that meant that those 4 kids who came up to him...the way they acted, must have known his superhero identity, which meant that they were superheroes, too! I quickly searched for their names and couldn’t believe what came up. These were the kids that Fury was trying to turn into the Spidey-team! It all made sense! To be honest, I was almost regretting my decision to leave, now. Almost.

     It was then that I realized that some of the kids were staring at me. I met each of their eyes until they turned away, embarrassed. Teenagers were creepy when they stared.

     One of the boys in class approached me “Hey,--! Actually, I still don’t know your name.” It was the brawny African-American again. What was his name, Powerman? No, I’d better call him Luke.

     “Hey Luke. Eva, Danny. Sam.” I said, nodding to each person respectively. They looked at me strangely, and then Rocket-boy spoke.

     “You’re that girl from earlier, right? You know the webhea--I mean, Peter, right? “

     “Not really. I’ve only met ‘webhead’ twice.” I smiled as Sam Alexander winced.

     “Oh. Okaaay. Well, we’re going to be in your classes for the rest of the year.” he said, trying to cover up his wince with a roll of his shoulders.

     “Actually, tomorrow’s my last day here. I’m leaving because of the incident with the Frightful Four. My guardians are worried about me, so I’m going to move back to Long Island.”

     “Oh, cool. Hey what’s that?” he pointed to my computer, which I realized still had the files on them and Spiderman open.

     “Nothing.” I slammed the laptop closed and winced. I hoped I didn’t break it. It was already hard enough to find the money to buy a decent second-hand computer. If I had to get it repaired, I’d have to use all the money I’d saved up from work.

     They all looked at me again. “Sorry, I’ve got to go. I grabbed my backpack and laptop and rushed out. All I could do was hope that Sam hadn’t seen anything.

      It was then that I realized I’d walked out before class could even start.

 

\-----Back to our favorite team…-----

 

      “Did you guys see that?” Sam was still wondering if he had really seen what he thought.

      Eva looked at him “Obviously not, _buckethead._ Do you mind telling us what the big idea is?”

       “I agree. She seemed rather upset. What exactly did you see?” Danny had finally joined the conversation.

       “I think…I saw _us_ “

       “What do you mean _us?”_ Eva furrowed her brows, confused like all the other teammates.

_“_ I mean I saw us! She had files on our team open, like, the secret SHIELD ones! I think she knows about us!”

      “Sam are you sure? If so, then we need to get this to Coulson, _now.”_

      “Of course I’m sure!” Sam said angrily.

     Danny spoke up, “Don’t you think she could be a SHIELD agent, too?”

     Luke reluctantly nodded in agreement. “Yeah, she could’ve been positioned here to spy on Peter, gather information and stuff.”

     “No,” said Eva sharply, “if she was part of SHIELD then she should have known who we were and why we’re here. We would know, too--SHIELD wouldn't keep that from us. Besides, she said she only met Peter twice.”

      “Whatever, this is serious. We need to get this to Coulson.” Sam said with impressive finality as the quartet scurried to the principal's office.

       They burst in; luckily, the new Principal--Principle Coulson--was alone in his office. 

      "Sir!" Eva exclaimed, putting her hands down on the Principal's desk. "We think one of the students here has access to SHIELD's secure files!"

      Agent Coulson looked at the four teenage superheroes with furrowed brows. "That can't be possible. SHIELD doesn't have any undercover agents posing as students."

     "We saw them--one of the girls in our class, she was reading them in class." Luke spoke up, stepping forward until he was next to Eva.

     “And who had these files?” Coulson asked, fingers steepling as he leaned forwards.

      “We do not know her name,” said Danny

     “But she’s talked to Peter,” Eva interjected.

     “And she always wears her jacket hood up," Sam finished.

     “A hood?” Agent Coulson perked up at that tidbit. It was a long shot, but...

     “Yes, sir. But do you have any idea how she got those files?” asked Eva, stepping away from the desk as Coulson stood up.

     “Yes. There is an individual--codename Crow--who has been regularly infiltrating SHIELD and copying files. We haven’t been able to catch them until now, but I believe that, thanks to Nova’s...perceptiveness, we may have finally caught our culprit." Sam smiled in self-satisfaction while Aent Coulson pretended not to notice. "Please, is there anything else you can tell me about her?”

     After a moment of silence, Luke spoke up. “She mentioned that tomorrow was her last day.”

 

\---------

 

       I had finally quit my job. I just had to get through tomorrow, and then I would be done. Done with all this drama, and I’d finally be back at Camp-Half-Blood. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d talked to a nymph or satyr. I could almost picture the strawberry fields, practically baking in the afternoon sun, th shouts of training demigods ringing across camp...I shook my head. I needed to stop this. I had to concentrate on my surroundings. Until Chiron picked me up, I had to be aware that SHIELD could suspect me.

        Something flashed in the corner of my eye. I stopped and looked around. Maybe it had just been my imagination…I sensed something coming towards me, and instinctively I dove hearing something hit the wall behind me. I turned and examined it. Webbing? But that meant--I dove again, narrowly avoiding another shot.

        “I know you’re out there! Come on, Spiderman! Show yourself! I bet your team’s out there, too. C’mon, at least let me see if I’m right!”

        “Hey there...Crow? Sorry, but I’ve got orders from Coulson to take you in. Maybe we can talk after you come quietly?” Spidey almost looked abashed as he scratched the back of his neck. He was _such_ an awkward teenager.

        “It’s funny, but every time someone suggests I come quietly they wind up on the wrong end of my fist. Sorry, but I like living life the way I do now. Anyway, are we going to do this? I was planning on going home early tonight, but I guess that’s kind of impossible. But I’m not the only one who has to worry about school, isn’t that right--Peter?”

        “So you did know?” The wall-crawler stiffened, shifting on the wall he was...well... _crawling._

        “Yeah; found out today, actually. But don’t worry. I’m good at keeping secrets.”

        “Can we hurry this along? Listening to you two jabber is getting really boring,” a random voice so _rudely_ interjected.

        “And you’re Nova? Or Sam? Which do you prefer?”

        “It won’t matter, ‘cause pretty soon you’ll be seeing stars!” he swooped in, trying to take me out with brute force. That cheesy line almost did it for him, though. “Oh for goodness sake, this is useless.”  I snapped out my wings and took off, trying to outfly him.

        “Oh no you don’t!” he came up behind me and shot me, right in the back.

        “How ironic…” I barely gasped that out. He had knocked the wind out of me with a single blow.

        “Whoa, dude, you should be unconscious!”

        I hit the ground--hard. “Yeah, well,” I gasped again, “I’m not exactly far off. Owwwwww that hurt. I really should have exercised more. Godric would kill me for the shape I’m in now.” I muttered.

        “I think you might have hit your head a bit hard.”

        “Nope, I promise I’m good.” All of a sudden, that power rippled over my body, healing me. I forced the energy back and got to my feet.  Another flash, this time white, caught my eye. “White Tiger, I assume?”

        “Yeah, you got that right. And you’re Marissa?”

        “If you want me to be.” Looks like SHIELD had done their research. Too bad all their info was fake. I’d had so many names, it was hard to remember them all. I’d played every role imaginable in this dimension, from the quiet bookworm to the rebellious teen. Each one was imprinted into me, lives and lies that had become intertwined within my reality.

        “Though the mind and body are separate in life, the greatest power can be achieved through their unification.” Looks like Iron Fist finally decided to show himself.

        “Lovely expression, Danny. However, through their unification, the darkest depths of the mind will also be unveiled.” As I said this, I clapped my hands together and slapped them against the ground, feeling the energy or the earth below me and bending it to my will. A wall sprang to life, separating them from me. “And a very emphatic goodbye to you” I murmured before taking off once more. I was still going to go to school—it was the only place Chiron knew to look for me, and SHIELD wouldn’t be able to make a direct move with all the potential collateral damage—but I’d have to be more careful.

      I flew in zigzags, backtracking several times to make sure no-one was following me. At some point I discovered a tracker stuck to the back of my hoodie. I smiled and took a short side-trip to some back end alleyway in Queens, leaving it somewhere special for SHIELD to find. Once I was satisfied that there was no way for SHIELD to follow me, I made my way back to my squatting nest in the forest.

      I landed in front of my tent, taking in my campsite. There was plenty to do if I wanted to pack everything up before sunrise, especially since I had already wasted half the night. Still, I hummed as I worked, sorting everything I owned into piles that I would either keep, donate or throw away.

      I couldn’t wait for tomorrow so I could finally get back to camp.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last edited 7/19/19. If you wanna beta, shoot me a message or something. YEET.


	2. Uranus School for the Gifted--Cats, Camp, and Curious Characters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anyone have those days where all you want to do is sleep and read?  
> I have an addiction.  
> Its name is fanfiction.

      I had packed everything I owned (which wasn’t much) and brought it with me to Midtown. I didn't want to risk casting any "magic", since SHIELD was apparently monitoring Midtown High (and possibly all of Midtown itself). After all, if SHIELD happened to be monitoring rogue energy signatures at the moment, any "magic" I cast would show up as clearly as a lighthouse. Not only would the trace be enough to aid future searches for me, but the ability to recognize magical energy might lead to the revelation of accidental magics. So, instead of carrying a few conveniently shrunken belongings in my pockets, everything was sitting in a bathroom stall which I had locked from the inside (hopefully, no one would care enough to investigate).

      There _was_ a slight chance that SHIELD would try to apprehend me whilst I was in school, but I still wanted to try to have that "parent-principal" meeting and leave school under the radar. I hated drawing unnecessary attention to myself, and I hoped I would be able to use this alias in the future if I ever felt like applying for a normal job. Now, it was unlikely SHIELD would perform an operation in the middle of a public high school, especially since they still thought they had successfully planted a tracking device on my jacket last night (I had quickly discovered the plant, and had placed it...elsewhere). So I was relatively safe, as long as I didn't make any suspicious moves.

      Plus, it would have been almost impossible to phone Chiron and convince him that the parent-principal meeting/conference/thing was _worthless_ , and I just kind of needed to be picked up, NOW. (Unfortunately, I had lost all my Drachmas a year ago when I had angered a particularly disagreeable Chinese Pixiu and hadn’t recently re-stocked, so Iris-messaging anyone was out of the question).

        The day passed uneventfully, other than the awkward glances between myself and the Spiderman-crew. Honestly, it kind-of felt like they were taking all of this...too seriously? Maybe SHIELD really did consider me a threat to their precious 'national security', or whatever it was that they were actually in charge of. In any case, the end of the day came swiftly (though there were many awkward moments when I caught the Spidey-crew staring at me), and before I knew it I was collecting my bags (from the now unlocked bathroom stall) and was making my way to the school parking lot. Truth must've finally felt like cutting me some slack, since I stepped out of Midtown High School's front doors just in time to watch a white van with "Delphi’s Strawberry service” printed along both sides come bumbling up to the school.

        Argus (currently covered with several heavy layers of the Mist so he didn't cause a panic) stepped elegantly out of the van. It took a few moments for my brain to decide which version of Argus it wanted to see--eventually it settled on the "normal version", of a blonde man covered in many, slightly watery, bright blue eyes. While my brain was busy deciding how to see Argus, he had stepped to the back of the van and opened the back doors, allowing Chiron—or rather, Mr. Brunner—to wheel his way out.

        Chiron smiled when he saw me standing by the curb. “Ah, and how are you doing, Raven?” His smile was almost grandfatherly, but it lacked that disregard for younger opinions. 

        I looked down at Chiron, who was re-settling his blanket over his lap. His mortal disguise was unnerving--it was strange to be taller than the centaur for once. I finally stopped staring at the now wheelchair-bound mortal mentor and answered, “I’m doing quite well. How’s camp? Are the Stolls all right?” Chiron had sounded rushed on the phone yesterday, and I was almost eager to hear the results of the Stoll brothers' pranks--there was no way the Ares cabin had just let the brothers go after whatever they had done.

        We took some time to talk about the current state of Camp Half-Blood--apparently, the Stolls had only suffered some minor injuries, though the Ares cabin only backed down after Chiron intervened and reminded the campers that disputes were to be settled in the dueling area, or during capture the flag, and that the whole Ares cabin versus the Stoll brothers would hardly make for a truly entertaining battle. Dionysis had been as useless as ever, not even noticing the commotion until one of the Ares kids' battle axes flew through a window of the Big House while he and some of the satyrs wer playing a game of high stakes pinochle. 

        “Well, I can’t wait to see everyone again." I said, and then glanced at the still-open doors of the van. "Would you like me to put my things inside?”

        “No, don’t worry about it. I’m sure Argus can handle it.” At this, the blonde, many- eyed man began silently walking towards me, intent on helping.

        “Oh. All right.” He held his hand out and I humored him, giving him one of the bags I held. I followed him into the back of the van and set my other bags down, since it looked like he knew where he wanted the bags to go, and I had no idea what I was actually doing. Instead, I tried to make small talk. “So, how are you doing, Argus?” I said, trying to see what he was doing, and how I could potentially help.

        He just looked at me with a few of his eyes as he busied himself stowing my bags away in the van. “Still not much of a talker?" I smiled as Argus turned around, the corners of his own lips lifting upwards almost imperceptibly. "One day, I’ll get you to have a proper conversation with me.” I said, stepping out of the Van so Argus could shut the doors. Argus was all right—he was just quiet. But I had an eternity's worth of time to convince him to say something, and I was sure I would get him to talk with me _eventually_.

        “Well," Chiron said as he began wheeling towards the nearest handicap ramp, and I followed, "if I’m not mistaken, we have a meeting to be getting to. Lead the way, Raven. Maybe while we go, I can tell you some of what’s happened while you were away.”

       The following conversation covered a few unexpected events; apparently the Pine tree that held the border at Camp Half-Blood had been poisoned and Chiron had been blamed. The misunderstanding had been revealed before any lasting damage could be done, though Chiron didn't get a chance to explain how _that_ mess had been cleared up before we arrived at the Principal's office. 

      I took a single breath before knocking lightly on the door in front of me, only opening it once I heard a muffled "Come in". I let Chiron in first, making sure to shut the door before I examined the Principle's office. I had only seen the man a few times before--he had been pudgy and balding, with an unfortunate preference for plaid shirts and khaki slacks. Given his attire and general aura, I had assumed his office would be filled with odd knick-knacks and an assortment of family photos and sentimental memorabilia. I was not expecting a bookcase filled with classic novellas and the occasional tasteful bookend. There were 3 potted plants, in varying sizes, and the desk was clear of everything except for a single computer and a nameplate. The room practically screamed clinical professionalism.

      When I read the Nameplate, I knew something was off. Instead of "Principle T. H. Browner", the nameplate's sleek black surface was engraved with a golden "Principal P. J. Coulson". I stared for a moment, blinking as my brain tried to understand the implications behind this.

       "Hello there. I'm the new principal, Principal Coulson." My head snapped up as I stared at the man sitting on the other side of the office desk. He was so well put-together, it was scary. Wearing a full suit and sitting in his chair with his back perfectly straight, he was the epitome of the stereotypical "secret agent". Which he definitely was. I don't know how SHIELD did it so quickly--though this did explain the unfamiliar voice I heard yesterday when Peter was in the Principal's office. He continued speaking, leaning forwards in his chair with a strange glint in his eyes. "I believe you're here to talk about withdrawing from Midtown High?" the "principal" said, voice crisp and efficient. 

      I kept my eyes on him as I sat down on the chair in front of his desk, taking comfort in the fact that Chiron wheeled himself right next to me. "That is correct." Chiron said, not even having to glance in my direction. "Marissa will be moving to attend a school on Long Island."

      Principal Coulson steepled his fingers together. “I see. I am sorry to hear that you will be leaving us. However, I hope you enjoy your new school in Long island. What was it called again?” the tension in the air was palpable--it felt like every breath I took filled my lungs with concrete. Chiron spoke instead.

      “The Uranus School for the Gifted.” I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling as I mentally snickered. Whichever camper had come up with that name was a genius.

      “Ah yes." The principal smiled a bit.  "I know it isn’t my place, but are you sure that Marissa's grades are...up to par to get into a school for _gifted_ children?” He definitely knew I was 'Crow'. If I was any other student, he would be facing angry complaints to the school district, putting his very job on the line, after SHIELD had so carefully placed him at Midtown. No, this jab was definitely aimed at me-he was trying to see if either of us would slip. Unfortunately, his question didn't affect me as much as he'd probably hoped; I knew what I _needed_ to know, and I could learn anything I ever needed to learn. I struggled not to smile; as far as grades went, I probably knew more about transformative particles and subatomic energies than him, or any other SHIELD field agent.

      Despite the clear jab, Chiron's smile just grew into a slight smirk. "On the contrary, we’re sending her there to shape up.”

      I snorted.

      The principal just stared for a moment, likely trying to decipher what Chiron meant by "shape up". He was clearly overthinking the phrase, and stayed silent for several minutes before he finally shook himself out of his thoughts and stood, making his way over to Chiron to shake the wheelchair-bound centaur's hand.

      “Well, I wish you luck.” Chiron merely smiled in response, already turning his wheelchair around to face the door.

      “I am _right here.”_   I chimed in, folding my arms like any teenager would if two adults were discussing their future in front of them. Principal Coulson struggled to plaster a smile on his face as I stood up and opened the door.

      “Of course. Well then,” Mr. Brunner started wheeling himself out the door, “thank you for your time, Mr. Coulson.”

      “And you, Mr. Brunner. Have a nice day, both of you.” The principal told us as we left, stepping back into the tile hallways that dominated the school. 

      “So, onto Camp?” I asked as we headed towards the double doors.

      “Indeed.”

\----------

        “Coulson, should we plan to ambush her again tonight?” Spiderman asked, still trying to form a clear picture of what SHIELD wanted. This all seemed kind-of excessive for some teenager. Granted, that teenager had managed to break into SHIELD, but still.

        “Yes. But you have to make sure to get her this time. Did you successfully plant the tracking device on her?” the SHIELD agent rested his chin on his hands. This whole issue was becoming a nuisance--an important nuisance, but a nuisance nonetheless.

        “Yeah, barely-- _Buckethead_ almost ruined it by attacking early.” Spiderman puffed up, still clearly agitated by Nova's constant bid for authority over the team.

        “Just so long as you get the job done. Remember, this is an important mission, Spiderman. I know you aren’t used to your team yet, but try not to mess this up.” Coulson sighed as he made his way towards the helicarrier observation deck. It was risky, leaving such an important issue in the hands of Spiderman's untrained team, but Fury didn't have a choice. The real Avengers were spread across the globe, dealing with various threats along with most of SHIELD's capable operatives; even the Howling Commandos had been sent out to stop some Necromancer in Pennsylvania. For now, SHIELD would have to trust in Spiderman's team--they didn't have any other choice.

\----------

        When we made it past Queens, Chiron turned to face me in the small space in the back of the van. “So," he began, "...I hear your grades "aren't exactly up to par"…”

        “It’s not like it matters, anyway." I said dispassionately. "You know that. Going to school is a pastime for me, and I only need that alias to prove my existence. Airports don't care about test scores. Ergo, her record doesn’t matter. In fact, with her grades, no-one will look twice when she never reappears.”

        “I believe you should still put in some effort, though.” Chiron raised a single eyebrow. We had had this discussion before--even though Chiron knew that I was self-taught in most respects, he insisted that I learn 'how to be taught'. I sighed, not wanting to have this discussion for the 3rd time.

        “I do. I pay attention in my classes--I just don’t do any homework.”

        “At least you managed to avoid drawing attention to yourself.” Then he took a look at my guilty face. “Raven….”

        “All right, all right. SHIELD might have realized something was off about me. But, It was worth it!”

        “You know how important it is to avoid their attention! Anything you do could be traced back to Camp, and if they find out the Greek myths are true, the world will be chaos!” He had no idea.

        “I know, but I did get ahold of some interesting information--they’re already tracking some of the campers, _including_ that 'Perseus Jackson' of yours.”

        Chiron paused. “... That isn’t good. Olympus should be warned. We need to start establishing protective measures for the campers.”

       "You know what the best protective measure would be? Keeping them all at camp." I noticed quite a few of Argus' Eyes were now looking back at Chiron and myself, and I took a moment to calm down, though I kept my voice firm as I leaned forward. "Stop letting those kids loose on the world--they'll only cause more trouble. Humans aren't as dumb as they used to be; they're starting to discover things, secrets that have been kept longer than you've been training demigods." Chiron furrowed his eyebrows as he stared into my eyes.

       "Raven, you know we can't do that, and you know  _why_ we can't do that. It would be unfair to the children--to be completely cut off from the world they've known all their lives." He sighed and brought his hand to his forehead. "In any case it's not up to me. The Gods will decide what should be done."

        “Fine, but you know which option is safer, for everyone--your 'Gods' included. I'll get you the information, but after that it's not my problem anymore. I can't protect the demigods if you won't listen to me."

        "You could always talk to the Gods yourself you know. You'd have more luck convincing them than I would."

       "You want me to go to Olympus and tell the Gods what to do? You know what I'm like. Besides, Olympus is too arrogant to listen to the opinion of some ignorant teenager.”

        “I will never understand what made you dislike the Gods so adamantly.”

        I sighed. “Other than their arrogance? " I leaned my head back. "I dislike them because... despite what they want us all to believe..." my voice grew quieter as I closed my eyes, "they don’t hold the real power in the Universe.” I murmured.

        “What was that?” Chiron looked confused, though he clearly hadn't heard me.

        “Nothing.” I coughed, shifting in my seat to look out the window. “So, Argus, how long do you think it will be until we get to Camp?”

        Some more of his Eyes turned towards me, and he impassively shrugged his shoulders. Maybe he was offended by what I said about the 'Gods'' arrogance...he was awfully defensive when it came to Hera...

        “Please, Raven.” I turned my attention back to Chiron. While Argus was always defensive of Hera, Chiron was always ready to come to Argus' defense. The silence stretched for a few moments as I stared out the windshield of the van, until a thought finally occurred to Chiron. “Did you make sure SHIELD wouldn’t follow us?” He asked, straightening up in his wheelchair.

        “Yeah." I smiled, and the mood in the van instantly lightened. "They put a tracking device on me during an  ambush last night, but I passed it off to a stray cat.” I snickered. “I wish I could’ve been there to watch them try to track it. I can just imagine their faces!”

        Chiron sighed. “Sometimes, I truly believe you are a daughter of Hermes.”

        “Yeah, well, if I was, then he would have claimed me already. It’s been a few years.” I responded quickly, not really wanting to bring up the 'Gods' again.

        Did Chiron still think I was a Half-Blood demigod? Probably. And in a really convoluted, cross-dimensional way, I must have somehow been one--how else would I be able to cross the Camp barrier? But now that I thought about it, that might’ve been another weird effect of passing through the Gate of Truth.

        Either way I wasn’t about to let him know I wasn’t a traditional demigod (a.k.a. I didn’t have a ‘godly’ parent, unless my 'father' counted). If I did, then Chiron’d raise the question of how I could get through the barrier, and that would open a whole new can of worms that I wasn’t ready to deal with--either now, or in the near future.

\----------

        Everyone on the team looked at the cat as it dug through the garbage can. They had followed the tracker’s signal to here--a dark alleyway filled with garbage. Population: one rugged, calico cat.

        “Any chance she transformed into the cat to give us the slip?” Nova said hopefully. His natural light bounced off the bricks, bathing the area in an eerie blue glow.

        “If she was able to do that, they would’ve told us.” said White Tiger, tensing her claw-like fingers "Wouldn't they?"

        “Well, I think we can all agree that she somehow managed to escape.” Power Man said, stepping forward, ready to keep Eva from attacking the one person who had kept this mission from running smoothly. Everyone had thought that Nova deviating from the original plan hadn't had much of a consequence, but now..well, things weren't going to be pretty once they got back on the Helicarrier.

        “Now we must decide how to tell the Director” Iron Fist said, folding his arms and relaxing, only to be startled by a rat that came racing out from under the garbage pile. The calico cat chased after it, catching it before the rat even exited the allyway. The cat picked up its prize and, with one backwards glance at the strange group of heroes-in-training, slunk out of the blue-lit alleyway. Everyone watched it leave, still torn about the slim possibility that the cat could be the one they were sent to capture.

       "What now?" asked Nova after a few minutes. He was still hovering above the piles of garbage.

        Everyone looked towards Spiderman. “Well, _team leader_?” asked Tiger, tension bleeding into her voice.

        Peter sighed. “Yeah, I’ll...think of something on the way back. For now, let’s just get out of here.”

       Five minutes later, the alleyway was empty once more.

\----------

        “You WHAT?!” Yelled Fury.

        Spiderman winced. “You know, your forehead vein is bulging. You should probably get that looked at.”

        “I gave you and your team one job! And you failed! Do you know how long it’s taken us to track her down? Nearly fifty years!”

        “Fifty?! I thought she was a teenager?” asked Spiderman.

        Fury let out a strangled breath. "It doesn't matter now! We can't ask her how old she is, can we? Because we don't have her in custody! " The Director of SHIELD let out a frustrated sigh and began pacing across the Helicarrier deck. "We hardly know anything about her, but she poses a huge threat to our operations! I suppose I was asking a lot from you kids, but I wanted to avoid calling in the Avengers. But I can’t even do that now that she’s disappeared!”

        “Actually, sir, that’s not entirely true.” Coulson walked in with impeccable timing, holding a thick manila folder and STARK Technology's latest tablet.

        “Don’t play games with me, Coulson. Not now."  Fury narrowed his eye, but if you looked closely, there was the barest hint of a hopeful gleam in it.

        “Not only do we now know what she looks like, we have a lead. The man who came in with her has disappeared and reappeared several times, usually around troubled kids. Photos taken in the parking lot show that the van Marissa left in had a faded logo on the side that reads “Delphi’s Strawberry Service." After a bit of research, we found that it originates from a strawberry farm in Long Island--which is exactly where the suspect said they would be attending their new school school.”

        “Coulson, I want to find out whether this lead is just another trick, or whether it will actually help us. Send some agents in for recon, and get back to me with any information by tomorrow.” He turned back to Spiderman. “As for you, you obviously need to strengthen your team’s bonds. You’ll all be training together for the next few days--we won't be taking it easy any more. And I don’t want to hear any complaining!” Fury's tone sent shivers down Peter's spine, but he hid them as best he could from the two expert spies as he stood up and snapped a salute.

        “Yes, Sergeant General Fury Sir!” Spiderman turned and marched off, leaving Fury to his bulging vein.

        “Sir, do you realize your vein is pulsing?” Coulson asked the irate Director.

\----------

        We had reached camp without too much trouble, and at the moment, I found myself sitting in the Big House with Chiron and Mr. D, nursing a cup of hot cocoa and discussing my re-introduction to the Camp. Mr. D was as joyful as ever, but at least Chiron seemed happy to have me back.

        “Perhaps it would be best if we introduced her during the campfire tonight--”

        I cut Chiron off, “I don’t think we should make that big of a deal out of it. I’m just another camper.”

        “See? At least the girl is sensible. She knows she’s just another snot-nosed-brat who’ll cause more trouble.” Mr. D really had a wonderful personality. He was so easy to work with.

        “Yes, but the campers will wonder where she’s from, and how she already knows how to fight. We've gained more than a few campers since she was last here; most of the campers won't know her.”

        I stood up, speaking to both men (er, the centaur and the god), “I think I should just move back into the Hermes cabin for now, and we can just have a short introduction at the campfire.” I hurried out the door before either one could argue with me, making my way out into the sunlight. I grabbed her bags from where they had been set on the porch, and started walking towards the Hermes Cabin. From here I could see that the Camp had expanded in the last two years. A few kids were training at the arena, and some were playing basketball at the courts. It seemed like there were more than normal--maybe the weird bond between satyrs and humans had strengthened?

        Honestly, I hardly knew anything about the ‘Mist’ or godly bonds. Even by the time I had been sent to this world, the Greek society had been long-gone--and it wasn’t like there were books on how kids discovered their godly parents.

        I came up to the Hermes cabin and knocked three times. Two heads of tousled brown hair popped out,

        “Hello there-“

        “--are you new?”

        “Well, I’m Cravis—

        “—and I’m Tonner--”

        “Welcome to camp!” they chorused.

        I knocked them both over the head with my duffel bag, “It’s me, guys.” They both stared at me for a minute before their eyes widened. “Raven!?”

        “In the flesh. So…do you mind telling what happened while I was gone?”

        “Forget about that! What happened to you? Everyone thought you’d been killed months ago!” Conner exclaimed. I could understand why some people had trouble discerning him from his brother, but after you were with them long enough, you started to notice the little differences between them.

        “Yeah! You disappeared for a full year! We even burned a shroud for you!”

“It was very beautiful.” said Conner, wiping away a fake tear. “We made it totally pink, just like you’d have wanted it. The Aphrodite cabin helped out.”

        I glared, and they cowered away from me. I roughly smoothed my features over with her hand and sighed. "Sorry. And sorry for leaving. I just needed some time to think things over. But forget about me, what happened here? What’s with all the new kids?”

        “Well, you remember the old Hermes Cabin Counselor?”

     What  followed was one of the most bizzarely told stories I had ever heard. Thanks to Chiron, I was already aware of the infamous Perseus (or, as he prefers, Percy) Jackson, as well as Chiron's exile from camp just a year before. However, the Stoll brothers found it necessary to include the most bizarre details, like Percy, Grover, and Annabeth's 'hacky sack indecent,' and the fact that the Hermes cabin had thrown a rager while Clarisse was trying to recover the Golden Fleece.

        “Wow.”

        Travis stopped walking and looked at her. “Yeah.”

        “It sounds like it’s been more interesting for you guys than it has for me." I grinned, reshuffling my bags.

       "Yeah." Connor said, this time. The brothers were looking across towards the basketball courts.

       "I just can't believe that Luke--" I stopped myself when I noticed the corner of Travis' eyes tightening.

       "Just when you think you know a person, right?" He laughed, but it sounded too light. There was no joy behind it.

        “Well," Connor smiled, turning to face me, "now it’s your turn. What happened to you, Teacher? You don’t look like you’ve grown an inch since we last saw you.” Conner smirked.

        I barely managed to avoid glowering at him. “Thanks.”

        “Yeah. And you’ve been gone for so long, you must have some good stories to tell. What monsters have you slain in your years away from Camp? What epic battles have you fought?” Travis chimed in, swinging an arm over my shoulder.

        “No epic battles for me. I kept my head low, went to normal school for a bit. No monsters came after me, so I was able to avoid trouble.” Ha. Avoid trouble. And no, the brothers didn’t know about SHIELD or the fact that I was gathering information from shady organizations _like_ SHIELD.

        “Hey, I just had a brilliant thought!” exclaimed Travis “You should come meet Percy! He's still not really popular, since the whole Master Bolt thing, and the whole Thalia thing."

        Conner smiled “Yeah, and you should probably say hi to Thalia, too. I know you suck at making friends, but at least you both know Annabeth!”

        I hit him upside the head and Travis laughed. “Come on, you know what happens if you get on her bad side.”

        “Yeah,” I grinned, baring my teeth and narrowing my eyes, "maybe I'll make you run a few laps around the Camp border, Mr. Stoll." The brothers laughed easily, and I saw some of the tension leave their backs. Apparently the last few years hadn't been easy for the campers; what, with all the betrayal and suspicion they were dealing with. Still, it was a relief to be surrounded once again by some of the few people I could trust.

      I hadn’t made any friends at Midtown because I knew I wouldn’t ever see them again. My life there was inconsequential. But I knew I could return to here, to Camp Half-Blood, anytime I needed to. It was one of the few places where normalcy was nonexistent.

       And it was one of the few places I could fit in.

\---------

        “Raven!”

        I looked up just in time for Annabeth Chase to crash into me. “Annabeth!” I  gasped, laying on the ground.

        “Oh my gods, you’re really back! At first I thought Travis and Conner were pulling another prank, but then I heard there was a new girl in the practice arena, and you’re really here! Where have you been?!”

        I laughed. “I’ve just been thinking about some things, you know? Attending normal school for once.” No, Annabeth didn’t know any more about SHIELD than the Stoll brothers did. Chiron, Mr. D, Argus, and I had decided that ignorance was bliss, in the case of secret agencies that might be following the campers' every moves. Annabeth got up and put out her hand. I grabbed it and pulled myself up.

        “Hey.” She looked at me. There was a mischievous spark in her eyes. “Want to spar?”

        I backed away quickly. “Come on, Annabeth. I haven’t been able to practice for a while, and you’ve been fighting monsters all year.”

        “Oh? Is the Great Raven afraid of a little sparring match?” She smiled; she knew she had me. I couldn't just refuse a challenge like that, now could I?

        My eyes narrowed. And I smiled

       “Oh, you’re on, little Owl Eyes.”

      I let my eyes roam over the weapons that lay on racks in the training arena. "Any particular weapon you'd prefer?" I said, swinging my focus back to Annabeth. She wouldn't be able to beat me with any of the weapons in the arena--just a few years ago, I had been the one teaching _her_ how to fight of monsters and bullies.

      "Actually," she said, "why don't we do this the traditional way? No weapons--just you and me. Like old times." she grinned, her grey eyes sparkling with excitement as she set a jacket, bracelet, and a baseball cap in a pile near the wall.

     "Old times?" I laughed. "You sound like Chiron." I joked, rolling up my jacket sleeves and widening my stance as Annabeth walked in front of me. "I haven't been gone _that_ long."

     Annabeth just raised her eyebrows and started circling me. I matched her,  step for step, muscles tensed for the slightest sign that--there!

     Her foot lashed out towards my sternum and I blocked with an elbow, taking a step back to brace myself for the following jab, which she aimed at the center of my chest. I looked again and sent out my own jab, using it to distract her from a left hook which caught her kidney area. I winced in sympathy and stepped back to let her catch her breath--big mistake. She swung her leg at me, which I rushed to block, leaving my left side completely open. She didn't pass up my invitation, hitting me twice in the ribs before I managed to retaliate with a kick to her thigh. We separated, backing away until there was a good distance between up, both panting a bit from our high-speed exchange.

        “You know,” breathed Annabeth, “you’re still pretty good for ‘Not having practiced for a while’”

        I laughed, ”What can I say? PE was always my best subject.”

        A small crowd had gathered while we fought. I could hear whispers all around us and I cocked my head, trying to understand what some of the campers were saying.

\- ‘Do you think the new girl is going to beat Annabeth?’

-‘Nah, Annabeth’s just going easy on her.”

     Annabeth's head was whipping around as she finally noticed the group that surrounded us. I caught her eye and laughed. “It seems like we’ve gathered a crowd. Maybe we should start selling tickets.”

        “Yeah." Annabeth smiled, no longer desparate for air as she straightened. "But it’s almost time for the campfire. What do you say we call it a draw--for now?” she almost sounded disappointed, but she was also clearly distracted by the forming crowd.

        “Hmmm..." I glanced around at the group of campers who were still a decent distance away. While I was excited to finally spar with someone else, the last few days had already been pretty exciting. I was a little disappointed by the short length of this match, but, as I glanced at the moderate crowd of campers who had gathered at the arena in such a surprisingly short amount of time, I remembered that I didn't really want to draw attention to myself. "That sounds like a great idea. Besides, I’m hungry.” I smirked, rubbing my arms. Either Annabeth had gotten stronger, or I had gotten weaker; either way, the hits she had landed had actually _tickled._

        “Aren’t you always hungry?" Annabeth sighed as she went over to her pile of stuff, picking up and dusting off her things.

        "...maybe." I swung my arm over her shoulder, neither of us looking back at the crowd of campers that had yet to disperse.

        “So,” I smirked as we made our way towards the dining hall, “the Stolls informed me that you and that new boy--Perseus--have gotten together. Is that true?”

        Annabeth spluttered, “Wha-you…they!”

        “So…yes?”

        Annabeth glared daggers at me before turning around. "Definitely  _not."_

      "I'm so proud of you! My little Owl Eyes is finally growing up!" I wiped a fake tear and clapped my hands together before she could growl at me. "Well then!" I grinned, dodging a half-hearted swipe towards my head. “Shall we go eat?”

       Annabeth narrowed her eyes before she turned and started sprinting away. “Race you there, Teach!” she shouted over her shoulder

      "Cheater." I smirked, jogging after her.

      It was  _really_ good to be back.

\---------

       I made my way to the burning campfire, just like the rest of the Hermes table. In the past, I hadn’t really made sacrifices to specific gods. However, Travis and Connor's story had convinced me that there was someone who needed a sacrifice—even if it was just burnt food. I scraped off biggest piece of brisket and let it fall into the fire

        ‘Well, I’m not sure if you can hear me, Hermes, but...I'm sorry. I'm sorry about Luke. And I'm sorry for not helping him.’ I thought as I stared at the fire. 

        It flared a bit when I dropped the meat in, but nothing else happened. I mean...what did I expect? The sound of trumpets coming across the horizon as the heavens opened to reveal Olympus, in all its glory? I shook my head and turned to leave, not wanting to hold up everyone else, but not before I sensed energy tingling the air, and something a little darker, like the shadows that cradled me while I slept. It was comforting--almost as comforting as it was disconcerting.

       It was just unfortunate that this feeling was also the same feeling I had felt when I stood before the Gate of Truth, prepared to give up anything, just so...

       Well, I had given up everything, and look where that got me? I pinched my eyes as they threatened to water. This wasn’t the time to remember them...then again, it never was. Remembering only brought unnecessary pain, and pain wouldn’t help me find a way back. Instead, I tried to distract myself by scanning the faces around me: there was that new--well, he wasn't that new anymore--camper Perseus Jackson, sitting by himself at the Poseidon table.

       The murmer of voices quieted instantly as Chiron got up and scraped a hoof against the ground.

        It was time.

      "Everyone!” Chiron yelled over the noise. Everyone quieted down quickly. “I would like to introduce a returning camper!” He gestured towards me. “Raven, of the Hermes cabin, has returned to Camp after several years away. Raven, would you like to say a few words?”

        I slowly got up, feeling every pair of eyes on me--except for that couple that was snogging in the back. That made me feel a bit better, and I breathed deeply, taking control of my nerves. A good impression was essential, so I gave my watching audience my kindest smile. “Hello there. For those of you who already know me, it’s great to be back! I'm plenty willing to fight you in the arena...if you're brave enough to challenge me.” A few of the old campers smiled--or smirked--at this. “As for everyone else,” --my smile became borderline Cheshire--, “you better hope Chiron doesn't put me back in charge of training.” That earned a few chuckles, and I deciedd to finish up with a few comments about how Camp had changed, and how I just couldn't  _wait_ to get to know the new campers. I sat back down to a few more chuckles, and even some scattered clapping, which I considered a win.

       I spent the rest of dinner half-listening to the rest of Chiron’s announcements. Capture the Flag on Friday, blah blah blah, play nice, yadda yadda, no killing, etc. etc. Normally I would have paid more attention, but the sheer amount of campers surrounding me had me fidgeting in my seat. The campers’ eyes burned into the back of my head. During one of my casual sweeps of the tables, I spotted a few more familiar faces; Silena Beauregaurd, who loved hiding daggers in the strangest place; Katie Gardner, who cared more about gardening than learning how to fight; Lee Fletcher, who was better than me with a bow and arrow, but worse than anyone with a pike. As comforting as it was to see these familiar faces, I knew that it had been a few years; as eager as Annabeth had been to see me, it was obvious that her life had gone on without me; it was the same way with the Stolls. The Hermes table sudenly felt too stuffy, and I thought about how I hadn't been here for Luke's betrayal, how I hadn't done anything to help him, or  how I had been missing when Chiron had been kicked out of camp. When dinner ended I practically rushed to the surrounding forest, eager for a few minutes of solitude as I took my time getting back to the Hermes cabin.

      It hadn't even been a full day and I was already itching to be alone.

 


	3. A Little History Lesson--and Plans for the Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Who needs to study for exams? Who needs Sleep?" asked the Little Red Hen.
> 
> "Not I," said the pig.
> 
> "Not I," said said the cat.
> 
> .  
> .  
> .
> 
> "Not I," sighed the exhausted high school student whose brain wouldn't shut up.

           That night, I snuck out of the cabin. It wasn’t that hard to avoid the Harpies (who actually avoided _me_ anyway), and if you were friends with the dryads, it was easy to avoid the various monsters that roamed the woods. I hurried with my stash of ingredients—and my cauldron— to a small clearing, where the moon could be clearly seen . I set up as quickly as I could and began sorting out the things I would need.

        It had taken a few decades of research, but I had definitely been motivated enough at the time to create something that would keep the so-called 'darkness' at bay, as cliche as that sounded. I hadn't noticed as much when I had first arrived in this dimension, but after a few years of fending for myself it became clear that when Truth dumped me here, they...gave me something. _Somethings._ The wings, immortality, and sensitivity to natural energies were some of the more obvious gifts I had been graciously given--however, there was one less obvious, more frightening abilities that I had received. I had this... _affinity_ with darkness, and with Death magic that I had refused to acknowledge for as long as I could afford to. I refused to learn more about it, and suppressed it any way I could. I had hypothesized, before, about why this new affinity had appeared; I had, after all, traded my life, my very soul, for the chance to save someone else. I had, for all intents and purposes, 'died' and been 'reborn'. 

        Either way, after a few years of experience in this realm, I noticed my strange affinity for darkness and Death, which had only grown with time. Now, I had spent so long suppressing it, I didn't know what it was like to live with the darkness anymore. I could feel it reaching out for me in those moments when I was hovering behind the veil of the waking world, but other than that, I had learned to live without acknowledging this 'gift' of mine.

         A potion had been my salvation; it had taken years of careful study with Salazar, an old friend, but I had eventually created a potion which I dubbed, "animam viventem sine Morte," which roughly translated to "living without Death." They insisted I name it the traditional way, with Latin, despite the fact that I hadn't known any Latin; I would have been perfectly happy never calling it anything, but Salazar had insisted on sharing the potion with his pupils, and he needed to call it _something_. One of his students had been fascinated with the potion's concept and done something with it--used a variation of it to attempt to decelerate the function of the human body, or something similar. Either way, my creation worked--though I needed to brew it on the full moon and consume it every new moon.

        It had become obvious when I first arrived at Camp half Blood, several years ago, that I would have to brew potions where no-one would see—otherwise, things would get…messy. At best, brewing 'potions' would make me look like an unstable believer in vodou. At worst, the campers would think I was attempting to brew crack. After all, even though demi-gods believed in gods and monsters,  they couldn't fathom the existence of wizards and magic. Not that they were supposed to recognize the existence of 'magic' anyways...so I suppose this was all for the best. 

         The potion itself was hardly simple, as I had never made an effort to change what I already knew worked, so it took several hours of careful work and deep concentration before I found myself carefully measuring small portions of the potion. The potion was finnicky, and though I could brew a decent amount of the potion at one time, I couldn't take it all at once--each dosage had to be drunk about four hours apart, for a twenty-four hour period. I stowed the small bottles away in my satchel, along with the preservable raw ingredients and my tools. As for the ingredients that would expire, I lit a small fire and carefully destroyed what was left, making sure not to breath in the smoke they let off. When all that was done, I retreated back beneath the cover of the trees, sat down, and stared at the sky through a small opening in the foliage.

           I couldn't remember thinking about anything, though I know I must have thought about something while I lay beneath those trees.

           I didn't even realize when I finally fell asleep.

 

\--------

 

     Conner and Travis hurried through the woods as quickly as they could, with one goal in mind: the Ares cabin. It was time for payback--with a whole lot of shaving cream.

     Suddenly, Conner stopped, peering into the surrounding trees. "What’s that?”

     Travis tried to find what his brother was looking at, his eyes piercing through the darkness as he struggled to make sense of the many shades of grey. There was some sort of...lump...on the ground, not too far ahead. “I don’t know. Monster?”

      “No, a monster would have attacked by now." Connor stepped forward, and Travis followed, sword drawn. Suddenly, Connor stopped again. “What is it now?” Travis sighed, obviously tired of his younger brother’s game of 'Sop/Go.'

     “It’s Raven!” Connor rushed forwards as Travis quickly followed, the duo first attempting to wake the sleeping teenager. When that failed, they worked together to carry their former mentor and friend out of the monster-infested woods, heading instead towards the Big House.

     Revenge on the Ares cabin would have to wait.

 

_\----------_

_Sickness stifled the air_

_Dying soldiers lay in messy rows across the floor. They had run out of blankets weeks ago; the other nurses were trying to compromise with the Chief Surgeon, but he was refusing to see reason. The soldiers were reduced to wrapping themselves in tattered rags to keep out the oncoming chill while the nurses struggled to keep up with the sheer amount of bandages that needed to be washed and reapplied._

_They had run out of bandages, too._

_The food was little more than gruel; winter was coming and soldiers were dying by the hundreds on the battlefront. Even those who made it to the hurriedly erected 'hospitals' rarely lasted more than a week._

_So many were dead._

_A sea of pale faces surrounded me._

_Missing hands and arms, missing legs and feet. Missing family._

_War was never good. The world had yet to understand that._

_I heard a coughing soldier gasping in the darkness and lifted my lamp higher._

_"W-water..." His voice was little more than a croak._

_I hurried to the water pail and ladled out a portion of water, carrying it back out to the coughing soldier while trying not to trip over the flagstone floor._

_"Careful," I whispered as he struggled to sit up. I lifted the ladle to his lips, and just as just as he was about to take a sip I gasped._

_The ladle dropped from my numb hands_

_The water spilled across the floor, glimmering with an opalescent sheen, reaching out towards my shoes as I backed away._

_The water was contaminated._

_The coughing continued._

_"I'm sorry," I whispered, "I'm sorry."_

_The coughing grew louder, causing other soldiers to moan in response._

_And then it stopped._

_The man lay in his cot. Peaceful in Death._

_Another tally to my body count._

 

\---------

 

     I opened my eyes.

     “Raven, dear, are you all right?” Chiron’s worried face hovered above my own.

     “Chiron?” I sat up, forcing the centaur to back away, feeling the pounding my head worsen. “What happened?” my voice came out as an embarrassingly dry croak and I coughed a few times before glancing at my surroundings “Why am I here?” A few cots identical to mine were lined up in neat little rows, some occupied by injured campers, some not.

     “We were hoping you could tell us that.” Conner spoke up from the opposite side of my bed. His shoulders were slumped forwards, but he met my eyes with a tired smile. Travis was next to him, but he turned his head away when I tried to smile at him, too. My smile twitched and I felt a pang of guilt from somewhere deep inside me.

     “Conner and Travis found you collapsed in the woods. Do you remember what happened?” Chiron asked, obviously concerned.

     Understanding hit, hard, and I searched my fuzzy memories, scrambling for an explanation. “Oh. Sorry, I was just...out walking around the forest, I'm still not very used to sleeping around a lot of people, and there are a lot of kids in the Hermes cabin. I’ve had an exciting few days, and I must not have been getting enough sleep. I don't remember falling asleep...I must've just laid down for a few moment without thinking--It's not exactly strange for me to sleep in a forest, you know?” I smiled, trying to dispel any remaining worries. I could tell they weren’t entirely convinced, but the three seemed willing to accept my explanation for what it was worth--which wasn't much, but what else could they do? There was no way I was telling any of them that I was brewing potions for hours and just happened to fall asleep. Though, I was glad that travis and Conner had come across me when I was asleep, rather than when I was in the middle of brewing "life without Death." As much as I disliked being seen in such a vulnerable position, and as inconsequential as their actions were (the monsters in the forest didn't ever bother me, so I was perfectly safe), I preferred that to the awkward questions I would have had to answer if they had found me, hovering over a bubbling cauldron in the middle of the night.

     Though I did wonder why I hadn't woken up sooner.

     I swung myself to the side of the bed and started to get up.

     “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Conner stood up and tried to push me back down onto the cot. “You just woke up, are you sure you should be getting up so quickly? We culdn't find what was wrong with you--and don't tell me that you didn't wake up just because you were 'tired.'"  
     I smiled at his concern, though I noticed that Travis still wasn't looking at me. I must've inhaled some of the smoke from the leftover potions ingredients I had burned--that was the only explanation for my inability to be awakened. Still, I couldn't tell them that, so I just reassured them that I felt fine, that I must've just been  _really_ tired, and that I wouldn't go walking around the Camp at night, despite the fact that neither the Harpies, nor the Dryads, nor the Satyrs had _ever_ bothered me about that. Eventually, Travis and Conner backed away from the bed, giving me enough room to stand on my own (thuogh they also might have been motivated by my tightening smile and the twitch in my eye).

     A few minutes later I outside, sitting on the porch steps of the Big House. The stars were out, as bright as ever. As I looked at them, I remembered what I had been thinking about while I was half-awake in the forest.

    _From where we stand, each star looks peaceful, like it keeps away the darkness with a light that is inextinguishable, unbeatable, and inconsumable. But each star was just an abstract sphere of constant explosions and inner turmoil, working to destroy itself from the inside out. Just like the people who watched them, idolized them. Every person tried so desperately to be normal, to fit in, to be perfect and loved and special. But every person also had something wrong with them, something below the surface, something you wouldn’t, couldn't, see, even after years of knowing to them. I had been a star; so had my brothers. **So had mother.** And then my brothers and I had destroyed ourselves to bring her back. To feel her love...we were so desperate for love..._

     Of course, it is human nature to want to feel love. But people shouldn’t have to...conform, and change themselves to receive it. Even stars weren’t completely identical. I scoffed. These thoughts would never help me. Sometimes I had half a mind to leave humanity behind and become a recluse once again. After all, I wasn’t even supposed to exist. Perhaps I would, if I was still unable to find an answer after scouring the Hogwarts library.

     Then something occurred to me. “Chiron, Conner, how long have you been waiting for me to wake up?”

     “I have been waiting for nearly an hour—Will informed me you should be waking up soon.” Said Chiron.

     “And you?” I asked Conner.

     “Well…Travis and I have been taking turns watching you.” He gestured to his brother, who had apparently fallen asleep on one of the unoccupied cots.

     “That’s…kind-of sweet.” I said in surprise.

     “We were really worried. And we couldn’t lose you right when we finally got you back.”

      “Annabeth came multiple times as well, along with Percy. You caused quite the stir amongst your friends.”

     “Hmm.” I turned back to the stars. Without another word, I started to walk away.

 

\-----Connor’s P.O.V.-----

 

       “Chiron…what do you think is wrong?” I said, wincing a bit at how desperate I sounded.

       “When it comes to Raven’s past, you would be better off asking her yourself. Despite all the time she has spent at camp, I know very little about her. Sometimes when I look into her eyes, she looks like she’s borne the weight of worlds on her shoulders. Other times, I see nothing but sadness, and at the worst times, I see nothing. She is complicated. Secretive. And I have no doubt she will stay that way for as long as she remains on this Earth.”

 

\-----Back to Raven------

 

   I had traveled through the woods until I found Zeus’ fist. When I arrived, I climbed to the top and sat there, thinking. I knew I was going to be leaving for Hogwarts as soon as I could. Camp Half-Blood, unfortunately, was just a pit stop. As long as I had time, I would spend it looking for some solution, some answer that I knew had to exist _somewhere._

     To go to Hogwarts, though, I had to send a letter to Albus

     I whistled as loudly as I could, hoping my old owl would still remember me. Sure enough, it wasn’t long before the sound of flapping wings filled the air, almost echoing against the mound of stones I sat upon.

     “Hey there.” I said softly.

     Alphonse, a slightly smaller-than-usual barn owl, landed on my outstretched arm, ruffling his feather and cooing in response.

     After a few minutes of catching up (and an entire bag of stale owl treats being devoured), I attached a letter to his leg. “Take this to Dumbledore as fast as you can.” Alphonse lifted off, quickly disappearing into the night.

     I watched him until I couldn’t anymore, trying to avoid thinking about what had happened earlier. I knew why I had collapsed earlier. It happened each time I took the potion. What worried me, however, was how quickly it had happened. There was still research to be done on that potion. I only hope that repeated consumption didn’t cause it to lose its potency.

     I sighed and got up, brushing off any dirt that might have clung to me. I already had enough trouble getting up in the morning—no need to dig myself a bigger hole.

     I walked back towards the trees, letting their darkness envelop me before I could take another look at the stars.

\---------

     The next day was typical enough—I mostly hung out with Annabeth, or the brothers, when she was too busy talking to Percy. It made me happy that they had finally gotten together. Of course, at first I was jealous—until I remembered how pointless a relationship would be in my situation.

     She and I mostly sparred, until the question I had been waiting for came up.

     “Hey,” Annabeth started. “want to fight Percy?”

     Immediately, I perked up. “You know? I wouldn’t mind that.”

     She called him over, and before long, Percy and I were facing each other in battle stance, preparing to face off. We had attracted a large crowd of people who were waiting for him to pound me into the ground.

     He smiled, and I smiled back. “Ready?”

     “You know it!” The second those words were out of my mouth, he came at me, as fast as lightning. We had decided against swords, which meant this was going to be a good, old-fashioned fistfight.

     A.k.a., Percy didn’t have an overwhelming advantage.

     He swung at my face, but I quickly blocked him, ducked down to drive my fist towards his abdomen. He backed away, throwing me off-balance. Before I could recover, he swept a leg under my feet, knocking me down. I jumped up, kicking him in the chest and landing before attacking once again.

     It continued like this for a several--maybe fifteen--minutes before I finally knocked him down and sat on him.

     I got up before I could crush his ribcage and offered my hand. Breathing hard, he accepted it. “Wow Percy, you’ve gotten better!” I grunted and pulled him up. “And heavier! Might want to lay off the blue cake.”

     “Nah.” He chuckled, “that’s all muscle.”

     “Uh huh.” I said, justifiably skeptical. “Then I suppose you won’t mind a round two?” 

     At this, Annabeth cut in. “Come on, Raven, you can’t steal him all day!”

     “It’s just another match!”

     “Yeah, but then it’ll be another and another and another. I remember how this works.” She said, a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.

     Percy and I chuckled. “All right. You can have him back, Owl-eyes.”

     “Owl-eyes? Is that a new one?” asked Percy.

     “Yes, and you’re not allowed to steal it.”

     “Aw…”

     “Anyway, I’m going to go see what the Stolls are up to. You two…cuddle, or whatever it is you do.” I said, smiling widely and jogging away as Annabeth yelled at my back.

      Right before I was out of earshot, I heard Percy whisper “You know, that’s not a bad idea…ow!”

      I started looking for the Stolls, but they were no-where to be found! Eventually, the signal for lunch came, and I made my way to the campfire. Because the population of  the Hermes cabin had been reduced nearly in half, it was possible to get a seat where I wasn’t practically falling off the bench. I dug in as soon as I could, feeling hungry for once.

     All of a sudden, the sound of wingbeats filled the air. More than one camper exclaimed at the sudden appearance of an owl, but I sat motionless. The Athena cabin was particularly excited, saying things like, “It’s a sign from Athena!”, or, “Owls don’t come out during the day!”, or, “It’s a Barn Owl! I love Barn owls!”, or, “I have a phobia of owls!” (really?). Soon enough, poor Alphonse found my face and landed in front of me, pecking at the scroll that had been tied around his leg. I carefully took it off, my face as blank as the sky above me. He took off once again, leaving the clearing utterly silent.

     “Well, that was fun, wasn’t it.” Mr. D suddenly spoke up. “Care to explain?” It wasn’t a question, but I answered as best I could. “Sorry, a...family of a friend of mine doesn’t trust the...postal service. I’ll make sure this won’t happen again.” I finished quickly. That was a lame excuse, but it was ambiguous enough and Greeks were already eccentric. Maybe they’d buy it?

     Mr. D hmpfed. “Make sure it doesn’t. I already have enough to worry about without adding rabid owls to the mix.” The Athena cabin bristled, but he ignored them, trying to dig a chunk of earwax out of his ear. I took this as my cue to leave, and so I did, trying not to pay attention to the stares on my back. As soon as I was out of their sight, I let out the breath I had been holding. Alphonse looked down at me from a tree at the edge of the forest.

     “Hey boy? I know you didn’t mean to do anything wrong, but remember, this isn’t like Hogwarts. Next time, just try and wait until I go into the forest so we don’t cause a scene.” He bobbed his head in understanding—at least, I think it was understanding. I sighed and sat down. “So, what do you think Albus said?” Alphonse flapped closer, and looked at me, as if saying ‘There’s only one way to find out.’ “That’s true.” I chuckled, opening the letter. “Dear Alicia…

 

  _Dear Alicia,_

_It would be wonderful if you could come and visit Hogwarts. If our library cannot provide the information you are looking for, then it does not exist. It has been many years, and I would enjoy spending yet another evening discussing magical theory with you over a cup of tea. Enclosed is a ticket to the Hogwarts Express. Luckily, you will be arriving with the rest of the students for the beginning of the school year. Simply follow the First Years, and everything should be all right. Once you arrive, we should be able to discuss your living arrangements._

_Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_

 

     "Short and sweet. Just how I like it.” I found the ticket and checked the date. September 1st. Perfect—that would give me about 3 days to relax before I had to leave once again.

      Plenty of time.


	4. Hide and Seek--Also Known As 'Why you should never fight the Ares Cabin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Optimism is like a parasite.  
> It sucks the negativity right out of you.
> 
> It's the best parasite.

     “Hey Raven!” said the Stolls. Dinner had finally ended, and campers were starting to head back to their cabins.

     “Sooo….” Conner started.

     “You mind telling us what was up with the owl?” Travis finished, searching my eyes for an answer.

     “Oh yeah…” I chuckled sheepishly rubbing the back of my head. “It’s like I said. One of my friends has an eccentric family who believes that the post office reads all the letters they get.”

     “Isn’t that against the law?”

     “Yeah, but like I said, his family’s...strange. So, we send and owl back and forth to carry our messages” Outright lie! Outright lie!

     But the brothers seemed to buy it--though reluctantly.

     But they seemed to brighten up as a thought struck them.

     “Soooo….you’re saying this owl is trained?” asked Travis. I nodded my head.

     “Can it understand human speech?” Conner asked.

     “I think so….why, exactly?” I asked, reasonably suspicious.

     “So you mean to say that if we asked said bird to take a dump right over Clarisse’s head...:”

     “...it would do it?”

     “I’m not getting my friend’s bird killed.” I said bluntly.

     “C’mon, please?” “Pretty pretty please?”, they begged.

     “No way in hell.” I walked over to her cot and got in. “Night.”

     “You’re so cruel, Raven!”

     “Yeah! It’s all in good fun...for us.”

     “If you keep bugging me, I’ll paint the Dryads’ trees purple and blame you for it.”

     “You’re no fun, Raven.”, Conner pouted.

     “I’m tired. Go away.”

     “Allright, but this isn’t over!”

     “Yes it is”

     “We shall discuss this further! Just you wait! We’ll be the greatest pranksters in the history of Camp Half Blood! No, in America! No, in the world! No, in the--” Conner was cut off as he dodged a book that had been mysteriously thrown towards his head. The brothers then decided that perhaps it would be best for their health if they let their friend sleep.

     And the owl was never spoken of again.

     .

     .

     .

     Ha! If only.

 

\-----------

 

     The next day was filled with questions, especially from the Athena cabin.

\--”What was that owl doing?”

\--”How dare you use Athena’s sacred animal as a messenger!

\--”Was what happened yesterday a sign from Athena?”

\--”Can I get a pet owl, too?”

     And so on and so forth

     Luckily, Raven was able to answer most of the questions without losing her temper, though with some people it had been a close call. Knowing that Chiron would likely have questions that he would ask sooner or later, she headed toward the big house

     “Chiron?”

     “Ah, there you are. I was just getting ready for my Archery class with the apollo cabin. I assume you already know what I’d like to ask?”

  
     “Yes, and I’m really sorry for causing such a commotion. You see, a friend of mine has an extremely eccentric family that doesn’t trust the postal service, so they send owls with messages as a way of communication. They’re supposed to wait in the forest for me so I don’t cause such a huge commotion, but I guess after such a long time, this one forgot. Again, I’m very sorry.”

     Chiron searched my eyes, searching for the lie. However, unable to find one, he sighed.  “I see. Well, it is good that you are able to keep in contact with your friends. Simply try and be a little more discreet from now on. No need to get the Athena cabin all riled up, now is there.” He chuckled, looking down at me.

     “Tell me about it! All day, it’s been questions left and right! ‘What was that bird doing!’,and ‘How dare you disgrace Athena’s sacred animal!’, and ‘Where can I get an owl?’” She sighed. “In any case, that’s not the only reason I’m here.”

     “Oh? Well perhaps you wouldn’t mind telling me on the way to my class?.”

     “Of course.” They stepped out of the house, and went down the steps of the porch, beginning the walk to the archery fields where Chiron was preparing for his  afternoon teaching session. She took a deep breath. “Chiron?”

     “Yes?”

     “I have to leave tomorrow.” He stopped in his tracks and peered at her.

     “So soon? But you just arrived.”

     “I know, and again, I am sorry. But this is important.”

     “I don’t suppose you’ve already told everyone?” He said, eyeing me suspiciously.

     “No, and I’d like it if you could avoid making a big deal out of it. Please?”

     “Very well. But it seems as though we’re seeing less and less of you every year.” He sighed with something akin to wistfulness. Huh. Never knew he cared that much.

     “I’m sorry. But I promise to come back for the Winter Solstice!”

     “I certainly hope so.” The had reached the archery field. “Well, it seems as though we have reached our destination. Though I’m not quite sure if the journey was worth it. Would you like to join us?” He said, gesturing to the archery range that was beginning to fill with campers.

     “Uhhh...no thanks. I’ve never shot an arrow in my life. Maybe during Christmas.”

     “Very well. But make sure to tell everyone before you leave. I’d rather not have panic sweeping the camp over disappearing campers” he chuckled again.

     “Of course.” I walked away, still smiling--until I was swarmed by yet another mob of Athena-ites.

 

\------------

 

     “So? How has research on the kid gone?” Fury asked, impatient for results after so many years of mystery.

     “Well, we’ve gone through all known databases, but this girl doesn’t exist. Whoever she is, she’s done a great job at hiding.” Replied the Agent MgRonalds, SHIELD’s best researcher.

     “Yes, we know that already. Is there anything _new_ you tell me?”

     “Actually, yes. You told me that she’s been around since SHIELD was first created, so I thought, what if she had been around even longer? I decided if there weren’t written records of her, maybe there would be photos. So I searched the Internet.” the Agent paused a bit to create suspense.

      “And?” Fury glared impatiently, knowing there was more.

     The Agent shrank back before turning around a bringing up multiple photos--there must have been over a hundred-- ranging from black and white to full color, portrait to landscape, and each of them with one similarity; a familiar face, with piercing eyes and a sometimes Cheshire grin. Sometimes the girl was in the center of the picture, sometimes she was barely in the background--but she was always _there._

     “The best picture I have is this one--” MgRonalds brought one picture to the front. It showed a boy with jet-black hair and sea green eyes. Next to him was a girl with golden hair and eyes. They had their arms on each other’s shoulders, and were smiling widely. “The boy in the picture has an appearance identical to one of the threats SHIELD has been monitoring for quite some time. His name is Percy Jackson, and was taught for one year at Yancy Academy by a man by the name ‘Mr. Brunner’.“

     “The same man who helped Marrissa to make her escape.” It was starting to some together, “I suppose this Mr. Brunner cannot be found, either?”

     “It would seem so. There are records of him teaching at a few other schools--very few-- and always for less than a year. Official record prove that he exists, but none of the people interviewed can remember him. During his year of teaching, both he and a troubled child go missing until eventually the child turns back up as though nothing happened.”

     “What about the strawberry farm lead?”

     “Well, it turns out that Delphii’s Strawberry Service does actually exist. I have already organized a group to infiltrate the area the day after tomorrow.”

     “Can’t you do it any sooner?”

     “Unfortunately, no. Organizing a team for something as important as this isn’t easy. I’m still making calls.”

     “Call in the Avengers.”

     “Sir?”

     “We don’t know anything about these people. For all we know, they could be the next generation of Hydra. If they have more people like Crow then they are incredibly dangerous. We need to match power with power. If we mess this up, we may never have another chance to take her in.”

     “Very well, Sir.”

     “I want them ready to go ASAP. I don’t care what you have to do--just make it happen.”

 

_\------Flashback------_

_White surrounded me on all sides. It covered me, enveloped me, wrapped me in its cold, unfeeling folds. Its familiar folds._

_“Truth!” my voice echoed through the nothingness. “I know you’re there. Why have you brought me here?”_

_“Clever, little al-che-mist. You remember our deal?”_

_“How could I forget?” I mumbled,unsure of why he/she/it was bringing that up after nearly 700 years of silence._

_“It’s time.”_

_“Time? The prophecy is coming true, then? How soon?”_

_“In 4 years, on May 2,1998, the world will either be saved from utter destruction, or the end will begin. You must see that the boy Harry Potter faces Tom Marvolo Riddle. If all occurs accordingly, you will be sent home. If you don’t, then I will leave you in this world to suffer as it is destroyed.”_   
_“What do you mean, destroyed?”_

_“The total annihilation of anyone who is not a pureblood.”_

_“Pureblood? Why tell me this now?”_

_“Because Hogwarts is central to the prophecy. It the school that Mr. Potter attends at the moment, and it is the place where the final battle for the wizarding and ‘muggle’ worlds will take place.”_

_“You want me to enroll at Hogwarts, don’t you.” Truth said nothing--he/she/it just kept smiling as the silence stretched out even longer._

_“Dammit.” I put as much of my hate and frustration into that one expletive as could possibly be expressed. “Fine, but not until next year. I want to continue my research as long as possible, and I don’t want to be distracted by schoolwork.”_

_“It will only make things more difficult.”_

_“Don’t care.” At this point, I was just being childish. But I didn’t care ._

_“Very well. Just remember--this was your choice. Have fun, little al-che-mist. I can’t wait until we meet again.”_

_“I can.”_

\------------

 

     I woke with a start, hand scrabbling to get out of the sleeping bag that suddenly felt too constricting. I was surprised I made it as far as I did as I staggered towards the door, before my light head and shaking legs brought me crashing down on some poor, unfortunate soul’s pile of clothes and random knick-knacks. The subsequent crash could’ve woken the dead--and while no undead zombies rose out of the ground, some very upset Hermes campers did

     “Hey, what was that?!” yelled Travis, jumping up and pulling out a dagger from beneath his pillow

     “It’s the Ares kids!” yelled a random camper

     “But they shouldn’t discover our revenge until morning!” shrieked Conner, indignant that his plans for camp domination had been foiled.

     I groaned from where I lay on the floor as lights were inevitable turned on to expose my poor body, tangles in clothes and sleeping bags and bruised from some very inconveniently-shaped knick-knacks. “Just me, guys” I said, muffled by my embarrassment.

     The brothers from hell slowly let out identical, smug grins.

     “Hullo, _Raven._ ” Man, they were creepy when they synchronized.

     “Uhh...hi.” I said trying to reduce the amount of blood flowing to my face. “A little help?” I turned over into a less awkward position and reached a hand up, and the demon brothers pulled me up. As I tried to sort out the mess I made (which consisted of sorting knick knacks into one pile and clothes into another, much larger pile), Connor turned to face the the Hermes cabin. “Don’t suppose one of you caught that on camera?” He had a predatory look in his eye that I most definitely did _not_ like.

     Travis chuckled evilly. “Well, there’s no need for that. The cameras we installed throughout the cabin caught the moment nicely.”

     At this I finally turned to the brothers. “ _What_.” I growled dangerously, carefully setting down the graffittied miniature bust of Zeus.

     “Well, we couldn’t possibly pass up any opportunity for blackmail!” ravis crowed triumphantly. “Pretty soon after an...incident...with an Aphrodite kid and a dear sibling of ours, we had cameras installed to discourage certain night time...activities.”

     “It also helps deter our dear campers from stealing what meager belongings we poor Hermes spawn own.” Belonging which had definitely been stolen from those campers in the first place.

     Still, this was concerning. There was no reason to be overly worried--I hadn’t brought anything suspicious into the cabin, knowing about the Hermes kids’ kleptomania--but having something record my every action was unnerving. Privacy was my treasure--and it was one I guarded as fiercely as any self-respecting dragon.

     I trusted the campers here (despite the fact that they were children of the God of Lies, Trickery, and Thievery) but this went against every rule I set for myself. There was too much at risk.

     Looks like I’d be leaving sooner than I thought.

     And when-- _if_ \--I did come back, I’d have to be more careful.

      “Huh. Guess that makes sense.” There wasn’t much else to add. It _did_ make sense, as much as I didn’t like it. And I _really_ didn’t like it.

      “Well, sorry for waking everyone up.” I gave a half-hearted grin

      “Actually, does anyone know what time it is?” Asked Travis suddenly, like he’d just thought of something.

      “4:30, but whyyyy?” complained one of the campers, checking a fancy watch I knew she hadn’t bought.

     Connor grinned. “The Ares cabin wakes up at 4:30.”

     And with that, all hell broke loose

 

\---------

 

     The Avengers were gathered in Fury’s (unreasonably spacious) office, along with Spiderman and his crew. Fury sat at his desk with Phil Coulson, a respected agent of SHIELD at his right hand.

     “If you’re here today, then you understand why I called you together.” began Fury, addressing the Avengers. Former SHIELD operatives Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff nodded slightly, but the rest of the Avengers just stared blankly. Fury raised an eyebrow. “So I suppose none of you took the time to read over the SHIELD files you were sent?” At the lack of response, he shook his head and sighed to Coulson. “This is what I get for working with civilians. Coulson, debrief  them.” Agent Phil Coulson responded by bringing down the lights in Fury’s office while projecting several images, including the holographic figure of a teenage girl wearing a hoodie.

     “This,” began Coulson, “is Crow.” He gestured and the figure enlarged itself, turning a full circle before stopping to face the Avengers.

     “What, does SHIELD have a habit of code-naming people after animals?” Tony Stark interjected, grinning like a lazy cat. “I mean, _Hawk_ eye, _Black Widow_ , White _Tiger_? Sure, I get Spiderman, but this seems to be an ongoing trend for you guys.”

      Coulson politely ignored the interruption and continued. “Crow came to the forefront of SHIELD’s attention about a year ago, when she broke into secure SHIELD databases within the helicarrier and made off with classified information.” That shut Tony up. “Since then, she has made six more trips, all of which seem to have been made with the sole purpose of retrieving SHIELD’s data.”

     “Well, it’s not that hard to hack into your databases. I’ve done it before. But up to now, she sounds like a high schooler doing a top secret research project. What’d you call us in for?” Iron Man snapped, still leaning against the doorway like he would rather be anywhere but inside Fury’s office.

     Dr. Banner interjected, “Well, Mr. Stark, I’m not quite sure about this but I don’t think a high schooler should be able to break into the Helicarrier and hack into SHIELD files like it’s nothing.”

      “Indeed; after some investigation, we found out that there was more to Crow than we originally thought.” At this the Spidey-crew, which had been in the background the entire time, perked up. They had thought SHIELD was only hunting Marissa--Crow? to retrieve the stolen files. They hadn’t thought there was _more_.

     Coulson’s hand waved and the holographic figure of Raven lost its hoodie. With another wave, the walls and darkened windows of Fury’s office were covered in projections of pictures--30, at the most--that were clearly taken from different periods in time.

     Stark stared blankly, but Steve Rogers--better known as Captain America-- narrowed his eyes. “Phil,” he started slowly. “All of these pictures are taken from different years?”

     Coulson smiled briefly. “Yes. And many of them are from different places, too. It seems  that Crow is more of an anomaly than we originally guessed.” The Spidey crew quickly recognized the familiar face--or rather, faces--but it too the Avengers a bit longer. When they finally saw it, they nearly gasped.

     Bruce Banner stuttered “But...that’s impossible. They’re in everyone one of those pictures.” 30 identical faces stared back at the group in Fury’s office, their piercing gaze relentless.

     Coulson stared straight at the group. “Previously, secure SHIELD archives held evidence of Crow’s existence dating back to the founding of SHIELD. New data suggests that she existed long before that.”

     Tony Stark got over his initial surprise quickly. “Do we know what she is?” he said sharply, pushing the impossibility of this topic to the farthest recesses of his mind.

     All the while, Captain America stared right back at those pictures. This person...they were lost in time, like him. Or maybe they weren’t. But he wanted to believe that there was someone, anyone out there who had experienced something like he had, who could understand how he felt; displaced in time.

     “No.” said Fury as Coulson turned off the hologram and projections, bringing the lights back up in Fury’s office. “That’s why you’re going to be our guinea pigs.” Fury stood, walking to the front of his desk. “We recently found out that Crow is associated with another person on SHIELD’s watchlist,a man by the alias ‘Mr. Brunner’. He’s an individual who shows up around troubled kids, disappears with them for a while, and then the kid returns to society like nothing ever happened. Recent information suggests that Crow and Mr. Brunner may be using a business called ‘Delphi’s Strawberry Service’ as a base of operations. The land the strawberry farm is own seems to have some sort of protection, and my agents can’t get near it. So your job is to break through their protections, grab Crow and Mr. Brunner, as well and find out any information you can about what their business and operations entail.”

     Banner paled at the thought of turning back into the Hulk. “Then, you only want me here for...the other guy?” He questioned lowly.

     “No” said Fury, taking Banner by surprise. “We need you and Tony to analyze whatever it is that’s protecting the area. I’ve already wasted enough agents on this project, and my research teams are all...busy.”

     Stark narrowed his eyes at that, but let it go. “Does that mean we get to play with SHIELD’s toys?” he smirked, imagining the equipment SHIELD probably kept in store.

     “Yes, but Coulson will be overseeing the use of anything particularly...sensitive”

     Captain America, finally broken out of his internal monologue, asked “So what do the rest of us do?” gesturing to himself, the rest of the Avengers, and the Spidey-crew.

     Coulson answered. “You, Clint, and Natasha will be in charge of infiltration and retrieval. Spiderman, Power Man, White Tiger, Iron Fist, and Nova will be assisting however you see fit.”

     “Well Great!” Tony clapped his hands once. “Coulson, lead the way to our new playroom.”

     Coulson obliged, leading Tony and Banner out as Steve, Clint and Natasha followed. Soon, only the Spidey-crew was left.

 

\---------

 

     Fury sighed and sat down in his chair. “What is it, Spiderman?” He asked wearily.

     “Tired of me already?” Spiderman grinned before turning serious. “Sir, do you honestly think we’re ready to go out in the field with the big leagues? I mean, I’m honored and all, but this mission seems like it bigger than me, or my team, can handle.”  
“Speak for yourself!” scoffed Nova

     White Tiger spoke up.“Spiderman’s right.” The others looked at her in shock. She gave them an offended look in return before continuing. “We don’t act like a team yet. We barely stopped the Frightful Four a week ago, and we have enough on our plate trying to find that symbiote that’s been running around impersonating Spider Man.

     “Hey, as far as I’m concerned, that’s Spidey’s problem” Nova shot back, temper rising

     “Eva has a point.” Iron Fist spoke softly. “Discord is the heart of chaos. If we continue like this, then, like untempered steel, we will break apart beneath pressure.”

     Fury stared at the teenagers before finally speaking up. “I want you included on this mission because you have already had contact with the target. Plus, this’ll be a good opportunity to see how a real team works.” None of the teenagers said anything.

     “Now that _that’s_ settled, I believe it’s nearly time for another training session in the Court. Maybe this time you can avoid demolishing all of the battle drones.”

     The teenagers groaned as they left Fury to his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of half way through this chapter, 13-year-old myself is no longer writing. From now on, I'm the one in charge--which means hopefully I can salvage this story. :)
> 
> If you find anything too cringe-worthy, please tell me. I've cut the worst of it out, but there might still be a few spots I skipped.
> 
> Reviews are ALWAYS appreciated. :D


	5. We're all Foodies at Heart--an Angry Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ever notice how many common phrases include food? For example:
> 
> "You have to crack a few eggs if you want to make an omlette,"
> 
> or
> 
> "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade."
> 
>  
> 
> It's food for thought.

      4:30 in the morning. ‘What kind of hellish demon decided this was an appropriate time to wake up?’ I thought as I hid in the forest with the rest of the Hermes cabin. The Ares cabin had woken up at 4:30 to find Travis and Connor’s prank waiting--basically, when the front door to the Ares cabin was opened that morning, the Ares kids found an insane amount of shaving cream flooding into their cabin. I didn’t have any time to see how Travis and Connor did it before the Ares kids gathered avery pointy object they could find and headed straight for the Hermes cabin.

     And so, we come to the present situation; a deadly game of hide-and-seek that’s already lasted 3 hours.

     Then the Bugle call for breakfast sounded.

     Breakfast.

_      Food. _

     And suddenly, it didn’t matter that I might have to fight my way past a horde of angry Ares kids. I was hungry, and I had kind-of skipped dinner the previous night since the potion was still messing with my stomach. Now, at the prospect of food, any previous nausea disappeared, replaced by a ravenous, all-consuming hunger.

 

\---------

 

     As I walked towards the Hermes table, I noticed two things; a.) the Hermes table was basically empty, and b.) so was the Ares table. Indulging in a rare moment of silence, I carefully chose a plate and made my way towards the wood nymphs, who were already serving food.

_      Food. _

     That was my heavenly mantra. The line in front of the campfire grew shorter and shorter as I tried to remember which deity was in charge of food. The longer I thought about, the more I realised there wasn’t one. That was interesting. The Greeks had gods for knowledge, love, war, and even hunting, but the didn’t have a specific god for food.Recalling that I couldn’t offer tribute to a god that didn’t exist, I looked around the camp for inspiration.

     Ares...considering my situation, probably not.

     Dionysus...somehow I didn’t think the ever-so-jovial Mr. D would enjoy  burnt bread roll and brisket

     Aphrodite….no. Just, no.

     But Hermes….Hermes had let me stay in his cabin as a traveller. His children were some of my first and best friend. I didn’t understand what had gone wrong with Luke--I hadn’t been there to see his decline--but I knew that Hermes always loved his wayward son. And that was more than enough for me. When it was my turn to scrape some food into the fire, I said a silent prayer.

     ‘Hermes...I don’t know if you can hear me. Or if you’re even there. But thank you for your kindness. Thank for Travis and Connor. And I’m sorry about Luke.’

 

     I step away as something odd filled my chest. Was that...guilt? Maybe. Hermes had to abandon Luke like I had to abandon my brothers. I wondered what they were up to now. Was Edward still trying to find a way to get their bodies back? Was Alphonse taking care of Ed? Were they...looking for me?

     I shut that thought down as quickly as it came. Hopefully they wouldn’t have to look for me. If I did my job and fulfilled the prophecy like Truth wanted, I would be able to return to them someday.

     I hoped.

 

\---------

 

     Jogging around the training arena, I spotted a flash of blonde, curly hair, soon accompanied by a jet-black bird’s nest. I smiled and made my way towards them.

     “Annabeth! Percy!” I called out, running to catch up.

     Annabeth turned and smiled. “Hey! What’s up?”

     “Yeah, how’re you doing?” asked Percy, slinging an arm around Annabeth--his girlfriend. I grinned but my next thought made me pause.

     “Actually, I have something to tell you guys.” They looked at me questioningly and I took a breath. “I have to leave today. Before dusk.”

     Their jaws slackened as their stared in disbelief. Then, Annabeth got mad.

     “Wait.”wshe hissed out. “You’ve been practically missing for 3 years and you finally got back, but now you want to go missing again?” I scratched my head like an awkward teenager (Spiderman would be proud). “Yes, pretty much.” Annie’s eyes narrowed before she forced herself to step back and walk away. That was probably good--otherwise she would’ve been at my throat, and fighting her would solve nothing.

     I turned to Percy to gauge his reaction, but he looked at the Arena floor. “You know...we were all pretty worried when you disappeared the first time. You didn’t try to contact us or anything. Eventually we gave up and burned a shroud for you.” So Travis and Connor weren’t lying about that. The camp had actually made a shroud for me and burned it.

     “You don’t have to worry about me. I can take care of myself.” I pointed out, trying not to sound too insensitive. I couldn’t understand why they were so frustrated. I was just leaving for a while.

     He stared back at me. “That’s the point” he sid softly. “We’re your friends. It’s our job to worry.”

     That did’t make sense. They had their own lives to live. I was just a passing part of that. I enjoyed being around them, but I trusted them to take care of themselves. Why would they feel any differently?

     “I don’t…” What could I say? Sorry for not empathizing with you? Why were human minds so convoluted and complicated?!

     Percy sighed. “Have you at least told Travis and Connor?”

     I thought back and...no. I had planned to tell everyone this morning, but then the thing with the Ares cabin had happened. Percy must’ve seen the look on my face because he grinned and rubbed my head--or rather, rubbed the hood of my jacket. “You really are hopeless. Don’t  wait till the last minute to tell them. Give them some time. And give Wise girl some time, too. We’ll try and see you off.” He smiled and walked away to find Annabeth, leaving me frustrated and confused.

 

\---------

 

     As I trekked back to the Hermes cabin, I saw a couple of Ares kids stationed outside the front door. I weighed my options and finally decided that packing what few things I had took precedence over avoiding conflict.

     I sighed in annoyance. Sometimes, teenagers were way too dramatic. And unreasonable. And confusing.

     The Ares campers glared as I approached. Glaring back would probably just antagonize them--they were descended from Ares. So I ducked my head and walked towards the door, trying to look as non-threatening as possible.

     Unluckily for me, the Ares kids were still  _ very  _  upset that their cabin had been flooded with shaving cream, and were itching to take out their frustration on some poor Hermes kid.

     Lucky me.

     “Hey! You” yelled out a girl with brown hair and a a pug-nose. When I stopped, she and her cronies surrounded me. She and her cronies let out feral grins. “Don’t suppose you know where your cabin leaders are? We’d like to thank them for their gift this morning.”

     Brash, aggressive--but also dangerous. The basic qualities that every Ares child had. I quietly shook my head, hunching my shoulders like I was trying to protect myself. The Ares looked on in disgust at my display of ‘cowardice’.

     “I thought you Hermes kids stuck together like rats. But I guess you can’t inherit loyalty from the god of lies and tricks.” Pug-girl and her minions guffawed at her joke. I wasn’t laughing.

     ‘This isn’t you fight,’ I thought. ‘Just let them have their fun and they’ll forget you exist.’ 

     ‘But I really want to punch something,’ whined the devil on my shoulder.

     ‘Unnecessary violence solves nothing!’ squeaked my miniature angel.

     As my inner voices argued, pug-girl and her goons realized something. “Hey, isn’t this the new girl that arrived yesterday?” growled minion number 1. Minion 2 spoke up as Pug-girl looked closer. “No, Chiron said she was a returning camper.”

     Minion 3 looked confused. “So, is she a Hermes kid or not?”

     “Why don’t we ask her?” said pug girl, as her beady eyes swivelled to focus on me.

     ”Well?” she demanded. If I didn’t answer, I’d have to fight them, but answering would give them verbal ammo while revealing my ambiguous status at camp. Finally, I spoke.

     “No.” I said quietly, coughing slightly. “Hermes isn’t my father.”

     Pug-girl grinned. “So your parent didn’t think you were worthy enough to claim?” She laughed and let me pass, and it could have all ended there if it weren’t for what she said next. 

     “In fact, they must  _ hate _ you if they left you with the Hermes cabin. Liars and thieves, every one of them is  _ pathetic _ .”

     My miniature Angel and shoulder-devil went silent.

     “ _ Kill her. _ ” they said in unison

     Pug-girl spat in front of the cabin and looked up--

     --just in time for my fist to land on her face. Off-balance, she flailed as she landed on Minions 1 and 2, landing in a heap. Minion 3 sneered and pulled out a dagger and charged while the pile of Ares kids struggled to straighten themselves out. With a judo-flip I...incapacitated Minion 3 and jumped to the right just in time to avoid a violent sword thrust that would’ve probably left a gaping hole in my stomach

     ‘Lethal…’ 

     I dodged another thrust and a slash, rolling towards Minion 3’s abandoned dagger. I didn’t want to fight 3 angry Ares kids with my bare hands--people would ask too many uncomfortable questions, like “Why is their leg turned backwards?” and “How’d you twist their neck that far?” Also, there was the small fact that it would be an impossible feat without years upon years of experience, and I didn’t look a day over 15.

     ‘Impossible…’

     With the dagger in my left hand, I crouched to parry yet another blow from pug-face’s sword. Minions 1 and 2 were finally up and charged in. Twisting my dagger, I quickly slid our weapons hilt to hilt and twisted my opponent’s sword out of her grasp and knocking her out with the pommel of my dagger. Minion 1 and minion 2 worked well together, with Minion 2 jabbing his spear at me from a distance while Minion 1 darted in and out with his sword. I backed up, trying to reach pug-girl’s sword, but the minion duo kept ir out of my reach. Just as I was getting tired of being on the ‘defensive’, a familiar voice rang out across the clearing.

     “What in Hades is going on over here?” And Clarisse La Rue appeared, my proverbial knight in shining armor. Minions 1 and 2 immediately stopped fighting and I took the opportunity to lower my dagger. Clarisse’s eyes surveyed the scene before her: Minion 3, knocked out, his dagger in my hand; Pug-girl, sprawled across the ground (but still unconsciously gripping her sword); Minions 1 and 2 with their weapons out; and finally, me. When she saw me, her eyes widened a fraction of an inch. “I finally come back from patrol only to find my cabin attacking a senior camp member?” She growled. The minions shrank back but didn’t answer. Apparently I had underestimated their intelligence; they knew not to mess with Clarisse when she was mad.

     “Hey...Clarisse” I started hesitantly. Her sharp gaze snapped to me. “Haven’t seen you in a while…”

     “Yeah.” she snarled. “It’s been almost 3 years.” She walked up to me quickly and I resisted the urge to back away.

     “Look, I know you’re angry and I probably should have said somethi--” her fist met my nose with a resounding crunch and I doubled over. “That.” she said, shaking her fist, “was for leaving without saying anything. “This” she brought her knee up to meet my stomach and I dropped to the ground. “Is for not coming back for  _ 3 years _ .”

     I groaned in pain. “Are we done letting out our frustration yet? Or do I need to grab a training dummy for you to destroy?”

     She scoffed. “I doubt that even hurt you.” I uncurled my body from the fetal position I had been lying in and grinned at her. “You know me too well.” I said

     “When did you get back?” She asked, offering a hand to help me up.

     “Night before last. I’m a bit surprised you didn’t hear about it sooner” took her hand and stood up, brushing the grass off of my hoodie. Minions 1,2, and 3 were gone, having taken pu-girl with them durin Clarisse’s knock-down session.

     “That explains why I didn’t hear about it. I’ve been busy with patrols since a few days ago. There’s been some...unusual activity near the edges of the camp, but it’s nothing the barrier can’t handle.”

  
     “ A rise in monster attacks?” I questioned, raising an eyebrow. According to Travis and Connor’s recount of the last few years, monster attacks had been less frequent since the Battle for New York.

     “No. Some weird people in black suits. I just came back from reporting to Chiron, he should bring it up at the pavilion during lunch.” Black suits? That sounded way too familiar. Clarisse looked at me. “How long are you staying?” she asked, a glint of hope in her eyes. I winced. 

     “Sorry, Clarisse. I’m actually leaving...tonight.” 

     Her eyes turned blank until they regained their furious glint. “So you come back after 3 years and then, ‘poof’! You’re gone again? Have you even had enough time to see how much camp has changed since you left? How long until you come back this time?!”

     I raised my hands in defense, “I’m planning on coming back for the winter solstice! I’m between schools right now, and I wanted to drop in to see how you guys were doing!” It wasn’t a complete lie, but I was getting too good at bending the truth.

     She looked like she wanted to argue, but finally shook her head in resignation. “Keep your secrets if you want to, but you can’t keep treating your friends like this. Always disappearing, leaving us to imagine what could’ve happened to you.”

     “I’m sorry for leaving 3 years ago.” I interjected. “But I promise, I really am in between schools. A friend of mine got me into this school in England; it’s got tons of books and plenty of research materials. I’m...working on something, and I have to go to England to get the information I need.” I sighed. “And I would’ve contacted you guys. I lost all my drachmas and couldn’t find a way to get more.” I sighed miserably, pointedly ignoring her stare of disbelief.

     “Drachmas.” she said. “All this worry and stress were because you couldn’t spare a few drachmas?” her face closely resembled a tomato at this point

     “Find” I corrected. “I couldn’t find any drachmas.”

     “...YOU ARE BEYOND UNBELIEVABLE!” Clarisse’s voice echoed between the cabins and back across the clearing as she stormed away.

     I stayed silent. It was probably best to let her work out her anger herself; besides, I had packing to do. I finally turned towards the Hermes cabin. Way too many things had interfered with what should’ve been a simple trip to the Hermes cabin.

     If I was superstitious, I might’ve interpreted it as a sign.


	6. Pack Your Bags--the Avengers Don't Ring Doorbells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What makes Life worth living?   
> For me? It's the motivation to help others.
> 
> What about you?

 

     As I lugged my bags to the Big House, I heard the bugle call for lunch. After packing up my belongings in the Hermes cabin, I travelled across camp to collect the things I had stashed in the forest. Alphonse would be flying to London, as I didn’t have a cage for him anyway, but I needed to collect my potions ingredients and my cauldron. Finally setting my bags down at the porch, I turned around and started walking towards the dining pavilion, thoughts of the wizarding world filling my head. I disliked the magical world. Nearly 70 years ago I had snapped my own wand and vowed to never return to that society, filled with irrational magic and oblivious purists, and meddling old men--specifically, one meddling old man who had inevitably failed to gain control over me like he so dearly wanted to. Albus disliked not being in control. We still enjoyed conversations on magic and theory and ridiculous wizarding politics, but he would never fully trust me since I refused to let him ‘guide’ my actions. Sometimes I suspected he enjoyed playing games with me.

     I shivered. The entire magical world is messed up. 

     I finally reached the pavilion. This time, the Ares and Hermes tables were filled--and glaring at each other. Maybe Chiron had finally told them to stop hunting each other in the forest so they could listen to the announcement he wanted to make over lunch.  I walked over to join Travis and Conner, who were pushing their food around their plates. “So,” I started, “Chiron called off hide-and-seek with the Ares cabin?”

     “Yeah.” grumbled Connor

     “And we would’ve outlasted them, too.” added Travis.

     I smiled and was about to walk over to the wood nymphs to fill up my plate when Chiron stood. “Everyone,” The hubbub disappeared in an instant as campers from every cabin turned to face Chiron. “If I may have you attention; recently, border patrols have uncovered unusual activity at the edge of the camp barrier.” He gestured to Clarisse, who stood and spoke up.

     “We don’t think they’re monsters. They seem to be wearing all-black and can’t get past the barrier, so we think they’re mortals , but they don’t avoid Peleus so they probably aren’t clear-sighted.” she sat back down and Chiron spoke again. “Until we know more, we ask that campers stay away from the borders. Those scheduled for border patrol should be on guard.”

     His eyes met mine and a silent message passed between us.

     I slipped away as murmurs spread amongst the tables.

 

\---------

 

     I caught up to Chiron just as he stepped onto the porch of the Big House. Most of the campers were still at lunch, sono one was around to overhear us, even in front of the Big House.

     Chiron stopped on the porch. “Are they part of SHIELD?” he asked quietly, looking into my eyes.

     “I can’t be sure until I see them, but that seems like the most likely conclusion.”

     He stayed silent for a while. “What can we do?”

     I sighed and got into planning mode. ‘They didn’t have much information on us, so they have no idea who they’re dealing with. They know who you are, and they know who I am. They also know Percy, but they don’t know that he’s here. I could probably distract their main force and allow the campers to clean up around the borders. If we get some good Mist users, e can make them forget they were ever here. That’ll send a warning to SHIELD,  and if I let them track my movements they’ll focus on me. I’m apparently the bigger threat.”

     Chiron hesitated before nodding. “So you’ll keep them distracted?”

     “I can try” I sighed. I had probably led SHIELD to camp. The least I could do was help lead them away.

     “What about once you’re gone? Won’t they turn their attention back to camp?”  Ah. That was the problem. I thought for a moment before answering. 

     “The gods should be able to take care of that. SHIELD now threatens their existence; they can wipe out SHIELD’s data, maybe Zeus can short-circuit their helicarrier or pay their head honcho a visit.” I was confident that the gods wouldn’t want news of their existence spread throughout the mortals’ most dangerous circles. No one liked unknown threats, and demigods were one of the world’s best-kept, most lethal secrets.

     Chiron didn’t look like he believed me, but he agreed anyway. He knew what the gods were like, after all. As his eyes swept across the porch, he noticed my bags. “Already packed?” His smile was almost grim. 

      “Yeah.” I said quietly and turned to leave. This conversation wasn’t really going anywhere anymore, and I’d be saying goodbye when I actually left. “I’ll leave sometime before sunset and draw SHIELD’s attention.” I called over my shoulder. “Clarisse should probably work with Annabeth to organize teams of campers to clean up the SHIELD agents who get left behind.” Lunch probably wasn’t over yet--if I hurried to the pavilion I could probably grab something to eat, and no one would notice if I didn’t sacrifice any to the gods, which would be convenient.

 

\----------

 

     Annabeth and Clarisse arrived at the Big House together. They had been finishing lunch at their respective tables when Raven came up and told them that they should go see Chiron. Even as they stepped through the door, something fet off. There was an underlying tension in the air, a sense of unease that was emanating from Chiron, who was already seated (did centaurs sit?) at the ping-pong table. He looked surprised to see them. “Annabeth. Clarisse. What can I do for you?”

     They looked at each other in confusion and Annabeth spoke up, “Raven said to come talk to you.”

     “Chiron’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why would...ah.” his expression relaxed “Yes, I need to speak with you two about the border patrols.”

     “But I’m in charge of that.” Clarisse said angrily. “Why do you need Annabeth here?”

     Chiron looked at her sharply. “Raven and I have been discussing a possible course of action. You both know she is planning on leaving later today?” They nodded their heads. “Raven plans to draw off their main force while teams of campers eliminate the threats along the camp’s borders. I need you two to lead those teams.”

     “Do we know why they’re here?” Annabeth asked curiously.

     Chiron paused. “Yes. It seems that Raven and I have attracted the attention of a powerful mortal organization. The people hiding around the edges of camp are agents of that organization, and need to be dealt with carefully. In fact, I suggest each of you recruit skilled Mist manipulators into your teams--perhaps making the agents forget about Camp Half-Blood would be best. At the very least, it will send a warning to their organization.”

     “So you want us to brainwash people instead of mortally wound them?” Clarisse said, sounding lost. Usually Ares kids could just hack at whatever was in front of them.

     “Make them forget,” Chiron corrected. “There is no reason for us to injure mortals. After we take care of the immediate threat, I will counsel with the Gods to find possible long-term solutions.”

     “What will the gods do?” asked Annabeth.

     “Who cares?” said Clarisse. “Right now we need to deal with the most important thing; clearing out our borders.”

     “Indeed.”  Chiron jumped in. “Raven plans to lure out the agents’ largest force and lead them away from camp while you take care of those who remain.”

     “So we just get the leftovers?!” exclaimed Clarisse, clearly upset that her leadership and ability were undermined.

     “We all know Raven is capable of taking care of the main force.” everyone went silent at that. Whether she knew it or not, Raven was one of the best fighters Camp had seen. None of the campers had ever seen her go all out, and they were more than a little wary of the day Raven revealed her true powers.

     Finally, Annabeth spoke up. “So who do you suggest we take with us?”

      Chiron sighed. “I would prefer that only capable and experienced campers joined your teams.”

     “All my cabin mates are capable.” interrupted Clarisse, daring Chiron to disagree with her eyes. He meet her eyes with a steely gaze of his own.

     “I do not doubt the Ares cabin’s ability to fight. However, we know little to nothing about out our opponent’s abilities. I will  _ not  _ risk campers in a fight they are not prepared for.”

     Clarisse glared at him, but did not say anything else. Annabeth spoke up, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “How soon do you need our teams organized?” 

     Chiron finally answered. “Raven will be luring them away at sunset. I want everyone gathered here or in position before then. I trust you two to do as you see fit.” 

     Annabeth nodded and stood, soon followed by Clarisse. They walked out of the Big house and back to the dining pavilion together, not saying a word to each other the entire way.

 

\---------

 

     Steve Rogers, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, and Phil Coulson were gathered (along with the Spidey-crew) at a SHIELD base of operations half a mile away from the mysterious barrier that kep SHIELD’s agents out of an expanse of seemingly innocuous strawberry fields. Tony Stark and Dr. Banner were communicating with them via a large screen, which took up most of the right-side wall.

     “I-It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before,” said Banner, “energy that constantly replenishes itself as it decays. I can only imagine how much power the source of the barrier would have to constantly put out to maintain the electromagnetic configuration required to stabilize the dome-like shape and prevent the energies from clashing or merging. It’s the theoretically perfect system!”

     Stark interrupted, “What Doctor Green here is trying to say, is that this barrier is impossible. It’s theoretically perfect, which means it  _ can’t  _ exist.”

 

     Steve Rogers stared blankly while Spiderman struggled to understand. Blank-faced, Natasha spoke up. “So what does that mean for us?”

     Banner answered before Stark had a chance to. “Theoretically, the system is perfect, but that balance it depends on is fragile, a fine line between dispersing the energy and collapsing in on itself.”

     “What’s the difference,” interrupted Clint.

     “The difference,” Stark said slowly, like he was talking to a kindergartener, “is that one of these options results in a very,  _ very _ big explosion,”--the room went silent-- “which is why we have to find a way to bring the barrier down that won’t destroy half of Long Island.” Stark finished.

     Finally Coulson spoke up. “And you two are working on that? How long will it take to find a solution?”

     “Weeks, months at best.” said Banner. “The energy levels are delicately maintained, one misstep could cause the barrier to come crashing down, and bring us down with it.”

     “I got dragged from my vacation for this.” exclaimed Clint, turning to Coulson. “So what do we do in the meantime?”

     Coulson paused and sighed. “Until we find out how to take down the barrier, the best we can do is wait for them to make a move.” Seeing Natasha and Barton’s indignant faces, he spoke again. “Our targets have been too careful so far no to notice our surveillance teams. They’ll make a move eventually. We just have to be prepared to respond in kind.”

     “How long will that take?” asked Spiderman. 

     No one answered.

     Just then a SHIELD agent burst into the room. “Agent Coulson!” they exclaimed, out of breath, “Someone’s come out from the barrier!”

     Stark smiled bemusedly. “Well, that answers that.”

\---------

     Everyone who would be participating in the teams Annabeth and Clarisse had organized was gathered in front of the Big House. Meanwhile, Raven and her friends were inside with Chiron.

      “So,” I said. “We all understand what’s going to happen?”

      “Yeah” said Clarisse. “You get chased halfway around New York by the bad guys while we clean up the leftovers.” she snorted in anger and turned her head away. I couldn’t tell if she was just angry because her cabin wouldn’t get to fight SHIELD’s main force, or if she was upset because I was already leaving. It was always hard to tell with Clarisse--all of her negative emotions usually just came out as anger. 

     “Right.” I said, not allowing my confusion to color my voice. “And your teams are ready to move out?” I said, looking at Clarisse, and then Annabeth.

     “Yes.” said Annabeth in short, clipped tones. Looks like Clarisse wasn’t the only one who was angry. 

     I sighed and stood. “All right then. I guess it’s time to go.” Everyone else stood, and Chiron spoke. “I wish you could stay longer.” he said quietly.

     I sighed for what must have been the twentieth time that day. “This works out, though. I lead them away and then go on my way. They’ll be so busy tracking me down that they won’t cause too much trouble for you before the gods can come up with a solution.”

     “Still” Percy half-joked. “It wouldn’t kill you to spend some more time at Camp.”

     I smiled. “You seem to forget we employ harpies to enforce curfew.” Percy’s own smile grew at that.

     “I guess you would know all about that, wouldn’t you.” said Travis, wrapping an arm around his brother.

     “Though you did learn how to sneak past them from us.” added Connor

     My smile grew before I turned to Annabeth. “Owl eyes…” I started--only to be crushed by Annie’s arms as they enveloped me. “You’d better come back for the solstice.” She muttered into my ear, squeezing tighter before letting go. 

     “I will.” I promised. There was no getting around it now. I valued my friends at Camp half-blood, and if I wanted to stay friends with them, certain compromises would have to be made. 

     Clarisse shuffled...angrily?...before stuffing a small bag into my arms. “Here.” she said simply. The pouch jingled when it moved, and I opened it to find a small pile of drachmas. “Keep in touch this time. Or I’ll-- _ we’ll _ hunt you down.” she added. I nodded carefully and tucked the bag away. I wasn’t lying about losing all of my drachmas, and keeping in contact with my friends might reassure them that I wasn’t abandoning them. I’d have to be careful where I Iris-messaged them, though--demigods weren’t supposed to know about the magical world.

     I moved in front of Travis and Connor and hugged them. “I will miss you guys.” I whispered into their ears They were some of my first, and closest, friends at camp. They might’ve even known me better than Annabeth or Percy, and I’d been with them since the beginning. Annabeth was next. “I’m sorry.” I said. She glanced at me and paused before awkwardly opening her arms for a hug. “Just don’t disappear like last time.” Everyone was really fixated on me disappearing. I hadn’t thought it was that bad--but, I suppose I could’ve told someone (other than Chiron) where I was going.

     Percy shook my hand, and then swept me into a ‘bro hug’. When we separated, he said, “Have fun at your fancy British school.”

     I raised an eyebrow. “Actually, it’s in Scotland.” I grinned. 

     He laughed,“Same difference!”

     Argus was last. He was my  _ first  _ friend in the demigod world--he was too sensitive and I was a little worried, but I figured he would be fine--what’s the worst that could happen in 3 months? I opened my arms, silently asking permission to hug him. When he nodded his head, I circled my arms around him carefully, trying not to poke any of his many,  _ many  _  eyes. The fact that he closed most of them helped. “Still not talking?” I said, half-joking after a moment in the position. Argus shook his head, but continued hugging me.

     Argus knew me. Like Chiron, he knew I was older than I looked, but he never asked questions, never mentioned it to anyone. I trusted him more than anyone else at camp. When he let go, I knew it was finally time to leave. I faced Chiron. We had known each other long enough to recognize that goodbyes weren’t always forever. I said simply, “I’ll see you all at the Winter Solstice.” He smiled and nodded his head, but didn’t say anything as I turned towards the door and went out onto the porch. 

     Clarisse and Annabeth followed close behind, and while I was grabbing my bags from the porch they gathered their teams and left towards different edges of the barrier. They’d be working their way around the barrier from opposite directions, finally meeting at the pine tree where .Peleus lay. They’d probably bolster the border patrol after I left, but I didn’t have to worry about any of that. I just had to lead SHIELD’s attention far enough away to give the campers a fighting chance. The easiest way would be to fly, but none of the campers knew about my wings. That left running like my life depended on it.

     My duffle bag strapped across by chest while my backpack lay on my back. I took a moment to be grateful for shrinking charms (maybe not  _ everything _ about the magical world was terrible), and then started of towards the edge of the barrier. Annabeth and Clarisse would have to wait until I caught SHIELD’s attention, so the sooner I got this done, the better. 

     The sunset cast a golden light across camp as I looked back one more time.

     Then, I exited the barrier.

 

\-----3rd Person P.O.V.-----

 

     The target had already made it halfway down the hill past the barrier by the time Hawkeye, Black Widow, and the Spidey crew arrived. They were walking down the hill towards the assembled SHIELD agents, without appearing nervous or anxious.

     “What does she have up her sleeve?” Clint mused out loud.

     "She’s clever. It could be anything.” replied Natasha, concentrating on the way Crow moved. “She’s moving with a purpose. She has a plan.”

     “What do we do?” asked Spiderman

     “We wait.” said White Tiger, before looking to Natasha. “Right?” Natasha nodded--and then her gaze sharpened/ Crow had stopped 3 feet in front of the nearest SHIELD agent, who had their gun out of their holster. Her mouth opened.

     “Where are the Avengers.” it wasn’t a question; it was a demand. The agent shook a bit as they looked to where Captain America and the others were gathered. Crow followed his gaze and tipped her head towards the agent. “Thanks.” was all she said before she walked past the line of agents and towards the gathered Avengers.

     Steve tensed and Clint readies his bow. Natasha looked relaxed, but her eyes were darting everywhere, trying to determine Cow’s next move.

     The Spidey Crew looked on. “Uh...what do we do?” Power Man asked, looking at the Avengers.

     Steve spoke up. “You guys make sure she doesn’t have anyone following her. This could be a distraction to mask an escape, or a pincer attack. Be on guard, and don’t engage her if she gets past us.”

     Nova looked indignant at that last  order. “We can take her on!” he said angrily. 

     “Yeah, like you did back in Midtown?” Clint said, never looking away from Crow as she grew closer and closer. Nova grumbled but didn’t answer.

     Crow grew closer and closer until she stopped, right in front to Steve. She looked over at Hawkeye, and his raised bow. “Down, dog.” she said with a smirk. Clint grit his teeth, and gripped his bow tighter. Captain America addressed her. “What do you want?” he asked, unslinging his shield from his back.

     “Negotiation.” Crow said simply. “You leave, and we go our separate ways in peace.”

     Hawkeye barked out a laugh as Steve Rogers frowned. “I’m afraid we can’t agree to that. You’ve infiltrated SHIELD and stolen data. You’ve proven how dangerous you are as an independent agent.”

     “Isn’t freedom what you stand for?” Crow questioned facetiously.

     “I fight to protect.” Captain America said, furrowing his brows. “And you are a threat.”

     “So you have every right to take me down, whether I’m actually planning to hurt anyone or not.” Crow sighed, then glared. “But you can’t tell what I’m planning unless I tell you.”

     At this, Natasha finally stiffened. “And what are you planning?” she said sharply. 

     “Let’s play a game.” Crow said suddenly. “Tag. I always liked tag. If you catch me, I’ll tell you everything.”

     Spiderman narrowed his eyes as Captian America spoke. “We aren’t here to play games.” he said.

     Crow chuckled in response. “Then I guess you lose!” and she was gone before any of them could react.

     “Damn!” Hawkeye swore as his arrow hit the air Crow had occupied seconds ago. “Where is she?!”

     “There!” Black Widow was running towards the dirt road that led to the barrier. Crow was nearly on the dirt path and was running faster than any of them had ever seen. The Avengers followed, barely keeping up as Crow led them towards Montauk beach


	7. You Can Run, but You Can't Hide--or Can't I?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If I had a dime for every time someone told me to get my life together...  
> Well, the only one who says that to me is me. Go figure.
> 
> Maybe I should write a self-help book? Something for teenagers, by a teenager.
> 
> It'd be 'bout time. Puberty's too confusing without directions.

     My breath came in controlled pants as my legs hit the ground over and over. Even though I had strapped them tight to my chest and back in preparation for running, my bags banged against my body. I suddenly regretted the many books I had stored in my duffle bag. I was glad that the Avengers hadn’t brought their heaviest hitters--Iron Man would have teamed up with Nova and forced me into an aerial battle and would have kept up with me more easily, while the Hulk would be a dangerous foe in any setting.

     The sound of air parting behind me gave me enough time to duck and avoid an arrow Hawkeye had somehow managed to shoot while running. How did he manage to aim while keeping up with me? Granted, I wasn’t going as fast as possible, but I was still going faster than the average human. Most of the Spidey-crew were lagging behind, and they had people with actual superhuman powers. How much did Hawkeye and Black Widow exercise? Or did SHIELD delve into genetic enhancement? Nova sent some energy orbs my way and I had to divert my path to avoid them. When I tried heading back to the beach, he sent more energy orbs my way and I had to avoid them again. 

     Was he herding me?

 

\---------

 

     Coulson spoke through the earpieces of the Avengers and the Spidey-crew. “Keep it up, Nova.  We’re ready and waiting for the guest of honor.”

     “You got it!” yelled Nova as he let another volley of energy orbs fly.

     “Won’t she notice that we’re guiding her somewhere?” asked Spiderman, his breath coming in pants. Swinging through Manhattan didn’t really prepare you for running a marathon.

     “Even if she does, she can’t do anything about it.” Natasha said through her earpiece.

     “She can  _ fly. _ ” Spiderman reminded her, his breath coming out in harsher pants as we wasted precious oxygen on talking.

     The Avengers contemplated this fact as Nova continued to drive Crow towards SHIELD’s trap. In the heat of the moment, everyone had forgotten that Crow had more tricks up her sleeve--which begged the question;

     “Why isn’t she using her wings?” Natasha asked, a falter in her stride giving Hawkeye just enough time to catch up to her. No one answered, focusing on running until Coulson spoke.

     “We don’t know enough about Crow to try and guess her motives. Or now, stick with the plan and be  _ on guard.  _ Her unpredictability has been her best chance at escape so far; so predict the unpredictable.” And everyone understood how impossible it was to request that; but Crow was a threat, and threats needed to be taken care of. That’s why the Avengers existed.

 

\---------

 

     I dodged another energy orb as I tried to plan out my next move. The Avengers were obviously leading me into a trap, but their plan hinged on Nova’s ability to guide me. If I showed my wings where the campers could see me then I would have  _ a lot  _ of explaining to do; so I just waited until Thalia’s tree was a speck in the distance before throwing my wings out, wincing as they tore through my T-shirt. I had liked that shirt. Luckily I had enough foresight to strap my duffle bag to my front and my smaller backpack to my back--trying to move my bags around  _ while  _ running  _ and  _ dodging energy orbs, arrows, and Captain America’s shield (heh, SHIELD) would’ve been just a  _ little  _ difficult. The breeze ruffled my feathers comfortingly as I pushed myself into the air with a leap. The Avengers scrambled behind me as I surpassed the range of their long-distance weapons. Nova was lagging behind me as I shot up and turned around. Outflying him would waste too much time and I really had places to be, so I opted for outright confrontation.

     Even as the wind played with the hem of my (now ruined) shirt, I turned to face Nova as he came to an abrupt stop in front of me. “When will you guys finally take the hint--I just want to be left alone.” I said exasperatedly.

     “Well maybe you should’ve thought of that before you  _ broke into _ SHIELD.” Nova huffed out snarkily. He had a really big attitude for someone so short. Maybe he was compensating? I almost giggled at the thought before I remembered the whole reason I was here

     I needed SHIELD to focus on me, not Camp.

     So I get to be a bad guy.

     “Well,” I said haltingly, “it’s not my fault that the world is filled with...uncultured rats. Someone needs to...regulate the population. And since no one else is willing to play the role of exterminator, I will bear the burden of curing the world from the poison of humanity.” I ended with just a little too much enthusiasm, slipping into my new role--I always did like trying out new personalities. Nova gaped in disbelief.  
“You’re planning mass genocide?” he asked incredulously. “What is actually _wrong_ with you?”

     “It’s actually a very common goal.” I said in confusion. “Why do you think SHIELD has so many people on their ‘Wanted’ list?,” I giggled again, slipping back into my role. “It just shows how real the issue is. The dregs of humanity are dragging the rest of us down!” I exclaimed with a maniacal gleam in my eyes. “The world is sick: we need to eliminate the disease!” and there was my Cheshire grin, twisted into a mask of insanity. 

     Nova seemed to finally recover from his immobile state of shock, “You’re coming with me!” he said angrily, shooting towards me with his right arm coiled for a punch. Close combat I could do, even we were 2,500 feet in the air. SHIELD was probably already sending backup so I needed to wrap things up. I mentally thanked my reflexes as I waited until the last second to turn just enough to avoid Nova’s punch and grabbed his arm before he got too far away. Pulling him towards me, I brought my knee up to his most...sensitive area (hey, desperate times call for desperate measures). 

      Nova’s eyes rolled back and he dropped like a stone. Hopefully I hadn’t done any permanent damage. I wandlessly cast a slow levitation charm on him and fueled it with enough magic and willpower to last until Nova hit the ground. I’d be surrounded by magic soon;; might as well take the opportunity to get used to it.

     With that I turned and left toward the ocean. London was waiting

_      Hogwarts _ was waiting.

 

\---------

 

     “ Nova?  _ Nova? _ ” Coulson’s voice came in through the comm system as the unfortunate hero groaned and struggled to open his eyes.

     “Wha-What?”Nova had finally opened his eyes to find himself floating. In the  _ air.  _ Because that was  _ normal _ . He thrashed but nothing stopped the slow descent his body was making. “Phil?” he called out, panicking as, for once, his powers did nothing.

 

     “Nova? What happened up there?” Coulson answered, a hint of relief coloring his voice.

     “I-I’m not really sure. Crow was spouting something about killing a bunch of people and how the ‘dregs of humanity’ are a disease or something.”

     “She’s planning on killing people?” Agent Coulson asked sharply. “Did she mention how, or when?”

     “I don’t know!” Nova let out a frustrated breath. “I attacked Crow and then everything went--” Nova winced and stilled as his thrashing caused a shooting pain to run up his spine and down his legs, “--black.” he finished after a moment of silent suffering.”Crow got away.” he said in realization. Coulson sighed.

     “She flew over the ocean. We lost track of her fifteen minutes ago. How far away are you?”

     Nova took a moment to absorb his surroundings. Judging from the minute specks below him, he was at least 1,000 feet above the ground and it didn’t look like his forced descent was stopping anytime soon. He relayed this to Coulson.

     “Your powers aren’t working?” Coulson said sternly.

     “I can feel my powers.” Nova said nervously, “And I can still control my energy orbs.” He let one out and played with it, just to make sure. “But I can’t break free of whatever’s drawing me towards the ground." he finished angrily and dispersed his energy orb. “Where’s the rest of the team?” he asked suddenly.

      “As soon as we lost sight of Crow, Spiderman and the rest of your teammates were brought back to SHIELD with the Avengers.” Coulson informed him.

     “Didn’t anyone go after her?” Nova said angrily. “She was right there, we could’ve--”

     “Sam.” Coulson said sternly. “No one could follow her.” he sighed. “By the time SHIELD brought in aerial backup, we had already lost her. Dr. Banner and Mr. Stark have paused their work on the Barrier to track Crow’s movements and energy signature, but they haven’t had much luck so far. I’ll send agents to pick you up and inform your team of your situation.”

     Nova nodded in gratitude before he realized Phil couldn’t see him--and then he realized what the agent had said. “Wait,” he yelled out, “ you can’t tell my team about this!” He could only imagine how much the team would enjoy making fun of him for this royal screw-up.

     “I can, and I will.” Phil’s voice cut through Nova’s internal monologuing. “We need all the information we can get on Crow’s abilities, and your situation will provide a good case study.”

     “But--”

     “No ‘but’s. Come to headquarters as soon as you’ve landed.” and then Coulson was gone, having shut down the comm link. Nova sighed. At the rate was going, it would take for- _ ever _ to reach the ground.

     Stupid Crow and her stupid  _ powers _ .

 

\---------

 

     I tooks miles before I had flown far enough outside of the gods’ sphere of influence to safely apparate in front of the Leaky Cauldron. Luckily, SHIELD would have no idea how I had disappeared to, and would waste plenty of time searching for me along the coast.

     The Leaky Cauldron was actually pleasant once you got to know Tom; the inn looked shabby on the outside, but Tom always kept the inn rooms clean. Mostly clean. And the food was actually decent, which was a bonus--despite the wizarding world’s ability to do basically  _ everything  _  with magic, most Wizards retained the inability to cook a decent meal. Go figure.

     I shifted my duffle bag to my back and maneuvered it to hide the rips in my shirt. I had ‘put away’ my wings before apparating and dropped towards the endless stretch of ocean for a heart-stopping minute before I suddenly found myself in front of the battered, dingy front door to one of the wizarding world’s most notable businesses.

     I shuffled inside, opening the door carefully and closing it with a creak before heading to the counter where Tom stood, polishing an already gleaming  glass mug.Hearing me approach, he spoke without looking up. “Butterbeer’s 3 sickles a’n Firewhiskey’s 4.” he said plainly, focused on scrubbing imaginary dirt off the mug.

     “Is that any way to treat an old friend?” I asked with a grin. At the sound of my voice Tom looked up, eyes widening in shock. 

     “Well I’ll be.” he said in amazement, setting the mug and polishing rag off to the side. “Miss Peverell. How long has it been?” He offered his hand to shake and I obliged. “Oh, 20 years, give or take.” I smiled brightly. “I was hoping you’d have a room open?” I pressed lightly, hoping to raise the reason I was here.

     “Of course. Right this way.” Tom exited the bar, motioning for someone to take his place while I started up the stair. Finding a room didn’t take too long--I wasn’t exactly picky; as long as it had a window, I was fine--and after paying for the night (I’d be leaving on the Hogwarts Express the next day) I changed shirts and headed back downstairs, carrying my nearly empty bag of knuts and sickles. 

     First stop was Gringotts. If I wanted to get anywhere in the wizarding world, I needed money. Luckily, in my many years of absence, my account should have accumulated enough Interest to buy a small country. I was never a big spender, preferring to only buy what I absolutely needed to get by. As I reached the end of the stairs I looked around and observed the atmosphere. Wizards were huddled in groups, wearing their ridiculous robes and muttering to each other. With the sun barely setting in London, it was too early for the drunks and too late for groups of friends. A few wizards sat alone in the corners of the pub but I ignored them, heading towards the door that led to the back alleyway. Facing the brick wall, I let out a frustrated groan. ‘Curse the Ministry and their penchant for over complicating everything’ I thought as I tried to remember the pattern that would let me through to Diagon Alley.

     ‘2 up and 4 across’? I tried it out.

     Nope.

     ‘4 up and 3 across’?

     Nuh-uh.

     ‘2 up and 3 across’?

     Nothing.

     I was starting to get annoyed--but I’d be damned before I asked a wizard for help.

     ‘3 up...and 2 across’? The bricks grumbled as the wall separated with a groan to form an archway into the most lively street in the whole of Wizarding Britain. Objects flew through the air as shopkeepers called out what they had for sale and wizards in robes of all kinds milled about. There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments similar to those I had seen in Dumbledore’s office. Windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon, and glimmering caskets off what I assumed was pixie dust. Owls flew overhead and cats walked alongside their respective witches and wizards. I paused for a moment to take in the scene, appreciating the beauty as the entire street was washed in the dusky light of sunset.

     After surveying the scene I headed straight down the street to where I knew Gringotts lay, in all its glory.The snowy white building loomed over all the little shops, glinting with pristine glory, making the streets and shops around it look dull and dingy in comparison.

     From Diagon Alley, a set of white stairs led up to a set of burnished bronze doors. On either side of the door stood a Goblin, garbed in uniforms of scarlet and gold. The Goblins didn’t turn towards me, but I saw the corners of their eyes shift my way. I opened the Bronze doors, entering a small hall with yet another set of doors, also flanked by Goblin guards. 

     Engraved on these silver doors was the only warning of Gringotts’ Goblins ruthlessness towards thieves. The words read:

     “ _ Enter, stranger, but take heed/Of what awaits the sin of greed/For those who take, but do not earn,/Must pay most dearly in their turn./So if you seek beneath our floors/A treasure that was never yours,/Thief, you have been warned, beware/Of finding more than treasure there.” _

     A lovely poem, and so very Goblin-esque. I smirked a little as I looked towards the Goblin guards. They gave no obvious response, but I thought the left one bared its teeth a little. Moving right along, I pulled open the set of silver doors and made my way inside Gringotts’ grand hall.

     A vast marble hall, with long counters stretching along its entire length, appeared before me. Everything gleamed as Goblins counted galleons and used odd little scales to balance out wizarding currency with other currencies. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw a scale with a pile of galleons in one tray sitting equal to another tray, which was holding smaller pile of British pounds.

_      Magic.  _ I thought to myself bitterly. At Goblins used a more natural form of it, though. They depended on Blood rituals and inborn talent to manipulate the world around them, not ridiculous stick-waving and Latin-based incantations. Walking all the way down the hall I reached the podium of what appeared to be the Head Goblin. 

     “Excuse me.” I said, waiting politely as the Goblin balanced out the scale in front of him. Once he was finished, he wrote something on a sheet of paper and passed it to a Goblin waiting at his right side. Then he finally looked down at me.

     “I was hoping to access my vault.” I said.

     “Key.” he said, biting on the word harshly. Clearly he didn’t like Wizards distracting him from his business.

      “Here.” I said, handing it over. “Vault number two.” The Goblin in front of me froze, along with those near enough to hear me speak. Which, considering that the only other noises were the clinking of coins and the rustling of papers, was most of the bloody hall.

      Recovering quickly, the Goblin narrowed his eyes and carefully checked my key. His eyes widened as my key proved it was the original, and he quickly motioned for one of his aides. He whispered something that I didn’t bother listening to and the aide scurried off,

     “My deepest apologies,” said the Goblin, bowing its head slightly. “May your gold always flow.”

     “And you enemies always suffer.” I finished, smiling slightly. “Apologies are unnecessary. I merely wished to...‘lay low’. No need to make a fuss about nothing.” I said lightly. 

     The Goblin looked slightly mollified at its mistake, but nodded quickly in agreement. “Of course,” it said, stepping down from its extraordinarily tall chair. “If you’ll follow me, then.” I led my to one of the side doors that lined the back wall. The doors leading off to the vault passageways dotted the lengths of the side walls,with around a hundred Goblins sitting at them. However, the doors along the back wall led to private meeting rooms and the personal offices of many high-ranking Goblins.

     I recognized the path from some of my previous visits to Gringotts: we were on our way to the office of the Chief Goblin over Gringotts. Despite what many wizards believed, the Head Goblin who usually worked with the rest of the Goblins of the ground floor of Gringotts was  _ not  _ in charge of Gringotts. All the real business (which usually went on behind closed doors) was handled by the Chief Goblin over Gringotts, who submitted reports to the Gringotts main branch somewhere in the Netherlands. 

     I faced the golden doors, the archways inscribed with Gobbledegook. It read. “ _ Welcome, friend, and enter. May your gold flow freely and your enemies suffer _ .” I smiled at the comforting line. Goblins were a clever race, and could make hell for anyone they held a grudge against. But if you befriended and respected Goblins, they tended to be more straightforward in their dealings. The message in Gobbledegook would be recognized by anyone who respected the Goblin race enough to learn their language. The Head Goblin pushed open the doors but didn’t enter as he gestured for me to go inside. The doors closed with a muffled ‘whump’ behind me and I surveyed the room before me. A woven rug covered most of the marble floor and several tapestries lined the walls, showing scenes from Goblin History. I think the one to the far right was an interpretation of the Goblin war of 1100, and the largest tapestry, which hung above a great fireplace in the center of the room, pictured the founding of Gringotts. A single goblin stood alongside a single human, as Goblins on either edge of the tapestry looked on. It was strange to see someone’s (probably a Goblin’s) interpretation of how I looked in 1474. I was pretty sure I wasn’t that short, but that might’ve been personal bias talking.

     I looked at the rest of the room, absorbing the abundance of mahogany and other rich woods in the forms of bookcases, cushioned armchairs, an alcohol cabinet and finally, in the center of the room, a sturdy desk covered with stacks of paper. An old Goblin sat at the desk, waiting patiently for me to finish looking around his office.

     “Sorry.” I apologized. “It’s been a while since I’ve had to pay Gringotts a visit. I think the last Chief Goblin I knew was Frostmarr the second.” I smiled. “May I have the pleasure of knowing your name?”

     The Goblin only hesitated for a moment as his mind caught up with what exactly was happening. “Gharluk Clannsborne, Goblin-friend.” he responded, his tone exuding a rare form of respect. I sighed and plopped into one of the cushioned armchairs that faced Gharluk’s desk. “You may call me Isabelle Elric, Hodor Gharluk. Now, to business?”

     Gringotts’ vault number one held the bank’s personal finances and store of world currencies. However, I owned vault number two. I had been one if Gringott’s first financial backers when he was first starting up his bank, and he repaid my support with a very well-protected vault, along with status amongst the Goblins throughout the many years I had been alive. It was convenient that there were plenty of rumors and legends about my existence constantly circulating throughout Goblin society; I held some sort of position worthy of respect in their eyes, and was one of the few non-Goblins that did.

     “I find myself in need of access to my account. I would also like to review my properties and investments, if you don’t mind.” The Goblin nodded and opened one of the drawers to his desk--which was strange, because there wasn’t any particular reason for my file to be stored  _ there _ . The Goblin responded to my raised eyebrows with a simple statement. “Every Chief Goblin of Gringotts lives for the day they might meet you.”

     “Oh.” I said dumbly. 

     The Goblin opened the file, which held about four sheets of parchment “Would you like to examine your estates first, or your investments?”

     “Investments, if you please. I don’t have much patience for business, so it’s best to get it out of the way as quickly as possible.”

     “Very well, then.” Gharluk slid the appropriate paper across the table and handed me a delicate silver knife with runic carvings all along the sides. “If you will,” he said, gesturing towards the knife.

     I slid the blade against my fingertip, pressing down until I drew blood. I let three drops of blood fall onto the parchment before lifting my finger away, bringing it to my lips to suck the remaining blood off while I wiped the blade on an old handkerchief I had placed in my pocket for this purpose. Call me paranoid, but you could never be too careful where blood magic was concerned. Especially with my blood.

     The three drops of blood disappeared into the paper and ink blossomed across previously blank piece of parchment.

 

Alicia Elric

13, Februarius, 346 BC by the Julian Calendar

 

_ Titles _

Lady Peverall

The Eastern Sage

Goblin Friend

La Pucelle d'Orléans ( Saint Patron Secondaire de France)

Recipient of the Most Venerable Order of the Hospital of Saint John of Jerusalem 

Recipient of the Royal Red Cross

Recipient of the Order of Merit

Founder of King’s College London

 

_ Shareholdings and Investments _

5% shares Twilfit and Tattings Robe Shop (held by the Lovegood and Potter families)

17% shares Slug and Jiggers’ Apothecary ( held by the Riddle, Black and Potter families)

21% shares Gladrags Wizardwear Robe Shop (held by the Potter family)

30% shares Alexander Alixan’s Ancient Artefacts (held by the Riddle and Potter families)

50% shares in Gringotts’ Bank (no second party holders)

 

     “Wonderful,” I muttered. It seemed most of my investments had been taken over and perpetuated by my ‘descendants’. Thankfully I had enough foresight to split up my shares between Ignotus, Cadmus, and Antioch. No matter how much trouble they gave me, adopting the three brothers and naming them as my heirs had been a decent plan--and it wasn’t like they were bad company, either. Sometimes I missed Antioch’s competitive nature, Ignotus’ clever quips, Cadmus’ sarcastic remarks; I never found out what happened to the three after they left on their quest to ‘see the world’, and had only discovered that they had descendants a few years after Gringotts was founded. Of course, forms of communication in 1221 had been limited.

     I had no desire to take over the shares held by my ‘descendants’, and I rather despised the politics of business. After memorizing the surnames listed on the paper (it was always nice to know who you were ‘related’ to) I recalled two particular names that I had heard before.

     “Are Harry Potter and Tom Riddle members of these Potter and Riddle families? I asked Gharulk, overcome by sheer curiosity.

     “Yes,” he said, hesitant for some reason. “Harry James Potter and Thomas Marvolo Riddle are actually the rightful Lords of their respective lines.”  
“How interesting…” I mused. Talk about family drama; here I was, Progenitor to both family lines, trying to keep these two boys from killing each other. It was it this moment that I realized I probably should’ve kept a closer eye on my descendants.

     Noticing how long I had been thinking, I shifted in my seat. “Well then, on to my estates.” I said brightly, smiling as the Goblin took a second paper out of the file and placed it before me. I repeated the process with the silver rune-carved knife, and it wasn’t long before ink was blossoming across this paper.

Alicia Elric

13, Februarius, 346 BC (by the Julian Calendar)

 

_ Titles _

 

Lady Peverall

The Eastern Sage

Goblin Friend

La Pucelle d'Orléans ( Saint Patron Secondaire de France)

Recipient of the Most Venerable Order of the Hospital of Saint John of Jerusalem 

Recipient of the Royal Red Cross

Recipient of the Order of Merit

Founder of King’s College London

 

_ Estates and Properties _

Seaside Peverell Manor (located in Le Gillieux, Ile de Re, France)

Peverell Cottage (located in Siberia, Russia)

Peverell House (located near sanbe, Japan)

Apartment (located in New Rome, Camp Jupiter)

  
  


_ By secondary right _

Potter Manor (located i n John O'Groats in Caithness, Scotland, )

Riddle House (located in Little Hangleton, England)

House of Black (located at 12 Grimmauld Place, London, England )

Gaunt shack (located in Little Hangleton, England)

Lovegood House (located near Ottery St Catchpole., Devon, England)

  
  


     Perhaps I could settle into Potter manor--it did used to be owned by Salazar and Godric...though, at second thought, I somehow doubted that Harry Potter would want his long-lost relative to intrude on his house. Riddle Manor, the Black House, and Lovegood tower were probably the same way. Still, I would settle into one of my personal estates--sleeping in an actual house would be a welcome change to sleeping in a park in Manhattan, or the Hermes Cabin. I probably wouldn’t always sleep indoors, but it was nice to have options.

     Besides, knowing where Riddle and Potter lived might make fulfilling the prophecy that much easier.

     As the Goblin pulled out the third paper, I sighed. I  _ really  _ hated business.


	8. Miss Peverell--How old are you, again?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post a chapter during math class? Sure, why not.  
> It's better than studying Probability notation.  
> Seriously, P(AUB) looks the same as P(AUB'). Do they do this to torture students?
> 
> Yes.  
> Yes, they do.

     When Camp Half-Blood gathered at the dining pavilion for dinner that night, exhausted members of the clean-up teams mingled with their younger cabin mates who were eager to ask about their exploits. Annabeth and Clarisse had remained near the barrier border with some of the more skilled Mist users, searching for the last few Agents that had stayed behind, but all in all the operation was successful. Late that night, Annabeth and Clarisse met with Chiron in the big House.

  
     “I’m glad to see that no-one was hurt,” Chiron said as the two campers stepped through the Big House’s door.

  
     “A few scrapes and dislocations, but nothing some ambrosia couldn’t fix.” Annabeth said, taking a seat at the ping-pong table.

  
     “The borders have been cleared out. All the Agents were sent packing with nothing to report to their head honcho.” Clarisse continued, also taking her seat at the table.  
Chiron smiled. “That’s good to hear.” He looked between the two exhausted team leaders and added, “While you were out taking care of the immediate danger, Dionysus and I held a council with the gods. Zeus has decided to take action, so we should not be facing more agents anytime soon.”

  
     Annabeth covered the skeptical look in her eyes while Clarisse snorted. “Zeus plans on taking action? More like Zeus plans on having someone else negotiate until this entire situation turns upside-down.” Thunder rumbled in the night sky, but Clarisse didn’t seem very apologetic. Zeus didn’t exactly have the best track record.

  
     Chiron looked at her sternly. “Yes,” he said emphatically, “Zeus plans on taking action personally. The organization is a very real threat to our existence--they’ve already made contact with the Norse god of thunder, and have proven themselves to be willing to take whatever action they deem is necessary to protect the Earth.”

     Chiron sighed and steepled his fingers. “Raven and I had hoped to avoid attracting their attention in the first place, but confronting the head of their organization should prove effective enough.”

  
     “So we’re just leaving this to the gods?” Annabeth asked warily. Chiron nodded.

  
     Looking again at the grils’ tired faces, Chiron gesture to the door. “Now, get some sleep you two. You’ve done plenty for tonight. Both girls, too tired to argue at the dismissal, got up and exited, leaving Chiron alone in the Big House. As they stepped onto the porch and out into the cold night air, Annabeth spoke.

  
     “Hey, where do you think Raven is right now?” her breath fogged the air as she examined the constellations above her. Orion and Cassiopeia were in full view above the camp.

  
     Clarisse muttered. “Who knows.” and turned away, heading back to the cabins on her own. Annabeth watched her back a while before eventually following.

 

\---------

 

     Apparently the 3 brothers and their descendants had been busy--I was now connected to a myriad of wizarding families including, but not restricted to the Longbottoms, Abbots, Prewetts, Selwyns, Flints, Malfoys, Slughorns, Weasleys, Shaquifs, Princes, Belbys--basically, the list was extensive.

 

     I wasn’t sure whether I should be grateful that Gringotts had decided to be so thorough is creating that magical descendancy paper. Some bloodlines were untraceable (that probably meant they’d turned squib or completely muggle, since the descendancy paper depended on a certain amount of magical output to include a family or surname), while others had blood so diluted I doubted they should’ve been included.

 

     Extended family was nice and all, but having a family included just because their grandfather’s grandfather’s grandmother’s, step-sister’s father’s first wife was a sister-in-law to Iolanthe Peverell was just a tad ridiculous. (I’m not even sure we’re related by blood).

  
     I hadn’t even bothered with the paper that held a record of my account holdings--I’d be stuck in Gharluk’s office until tomorrow morning just trying to read through everything. As Gharluk and I rode a mining cart through the vast maze of interconnected passageways deeper into the earth, I made small talk with my companion. He caught me up on the goings-on of current Goblin politics (such as the newest chief of the Clannsborne faction) and Gringotts’ updated security measures.

  
     "If you look to the left,” he stated grandly, “you’ll see one of the dragons we use to safeguard some of the deeper vaults.” I peered out of the old mining cart to glimpse an albino dragon curled up in front of several vault doors. “Of course, all vaults are protected by a simple blood ritual that allows only Goblins to open their doors.Anyone else who tries will find themselves sucked into a spacial pocket that we occasionally inspect.” The Goblin gave a marvelous, toothy grin and I responded with my own Cheshire smile. Wizards were really missing out; Goblins made fantastic company, and their knowledge in metalworking and inherited magicks was based in years of cumulative expertise, passed down from one generation to the next.

  
     It was a shame none of their expertise had to do with potential dimension-crossing, but they were a unique source of insight nonetheless--as long as you didn’t fall for their cleverly worded traps or resent their fondness for riddles. The strong thrived while the weak stagnated. If you didn’t fight for your place in Goblin society, someone else would take it from you. That’s why powerful Goblins were always, always afforded respect. Everyone worked for what they earned, and corruption was unthinkable--trickery was acceptable, but corruption went against Goblin pride.

  
     In any case, it wasn’t long before Gharluk and I stood before two golden doors. I could practically feel the magic thrumming through the air--Gringotts’ definitely hadn’t held back with warding my vault--though I doubted anyone would bother going deep enough to find it. I placed my hand against one of the vault doors, and Gharluk let me--the other vaults might only open for goblins, but my vault only opened for me. My genetic signature was unique enough, of course--I hadn’t even come from this world, much less this dimension.

  
     The doors opened to reveal a small, empty room with dusty corners. I stepped through the threshold, unconcerned, and heard the doors clang shut behind me, leaving Gharluk outside.

  
     The illusion dissolved (it had been a special favor from Gringott) and the room expanded a hundred-fold. A library’s worth of bookshelves, filled with magical books and my own investigative journals covered the entire area to the right; ancient artifacts, laboratory tools, and rare ingredients stuck in statis were stored in the well-lit area directly in front of me. Then, to the right, piles of English pounds, wizarding galleons, sickles, and knuts, American dollars, old Russian rubles, French livres, and Japanese notes covered the ground in sloppy mounds. Various other currencies were visible--from nearly every time period, from nearly any region (I was sure there were some Ottoman silver akçe floating around somewhere…)--but their mounds were smaller, swallowed into the masses of French muggle and British Wizarding coins.

  
     I grabbed a random bag from the ground near the piles of money and began scooping wizarding coins inside of it. I had charmed nearly all of my possessions to be ‘bottomless’ and ‘feather-light’ for the sake of travel and convenience--again, magic wasn’t completely horrible. It was the community that was completely rotten. I quickly browsed through my scientific journals and research materials, slipping certain titles into the pouch while leaving most of them on their shelves.

 

     I had kept the most important books with me when I left for America, but I might need some old references if I wanted to expand my search. Keeping in mind that Gharluk was waiting outside the vault, I skimmed over my alchemical tools and magical artifacts for anything that I could actually bring into Hogwarts. The few that would actually pass through the wards would be less than useful, so I left them in the vault. I felt the illusion of an empty room return as I opened the vault doors and stepped past the threshold, returning to the dark cavern miles beneath Gringotts bank.

  
     Gharluk stood, awaiting my return with his lantern held high, and said nothing as we returned to the rickety cart that had brought us down. I could sense his curiosity at the odd illusion, and I felt his eyes linger on the pouch I had brought out of my vault.

  
     My words broke the silence we had built. “The illusion prevents anyone from getting any ideas. I like to keep my life, and my possessions, private.” Gharluk merely nodded in response, too caught up in his own thoughts to provide any verbal response.

  
     The journey back up to Gringotts’ main floor was spent in moderate silence, only broken by the groans of our mining cart and the occasional discussion over Goblin customs.

  
\---------

 

     Fury sat alone in his office, nursing a clear glass of scotch.

  
     Chasing after Crow had probably been the largest mistake of his entire career.

  
     He had discovered a potential conspiracy that had possible begun before he had been born. His agents returned from surveying ‘Delphi’s Strawberry Service’ with no memory of where they had been or what they had seen. He had no idea where Crow was--she could be halfway around the continent by now, putting her ‘plan’ for mass murder in motion. Even Banner and Stark’s attempts at tracking her energy signature had ultimately failed, leaving the entire team in the dark. Not to mention, they hadn’t gotten any further in dissolving that mysterious barrier around those ‘strawberry fields’--though, with so many of his agent’s minds wiped, he sincerely doubted that strawberry fields were all that was there.

  
     He took another swig of Scotch.

  
     Macallan single-malt Scotch, aged for 25 years in sherry-seasoned oak casks from Jerez, Spain. A beautiful blend, really--if only he was in the proper mood to enjoy it.

  
     He sighed and reached for the nearly-empty decanter.

  
     It didn’t make sense--none of it. How he had let such a large conspiracy slip under SHIELD’s radar, Crow’s connection to Mr. Brunner, why Crow had made such painstaking efforts to avoid SHIELD for years, only to expose herself stealing data right from under their noses. But what bothered him most was that threat Crow had made, right before incapacitating Nova.

  
     He poured himself another glass of Scotch.

  
     That didn’t make sense. Crow had never killed (as far as SHIELD knew), had no reason to kill (as far as SHIELD knew), and had no means to kill on any scale, much less a global scale (as far as SHIELD knew).

  
     Or maybe SHIELD just wasn’t as all-knowing as he thought.

  
     He downed what was left in the glass tumbler and slumped in his chair, rubbing his eye patch. A series of unfortunate events. That’s what this was.  
Just as he brought his hand down from his face, a blinding light in front of his desk forced his eye closed as he scrabbled for his gun. He dropped the tumbler, resulting in a resounding crash that pierced through his office and grated against his ears as he finally forced his watering eye open.

  
     Before him stood a man--6 foot at the very least--with a wild stormcloud-grey beard and a blue pinstripe suit. The smell of ozone filled the air and the man opened his mouth to speak even as Fury pointed a gun right between his eyebrows.

  
     “Mortal.” the mystery man boomed out, his voice like thunder. Fury’s forehead vein twitched.

  
     “We need to talk.”

  
\---------

 

     “Finally.” I breathed out as I plopped onto my bed at the Leaky Cauldron. Walking out of Gringotts had been awkward--after bidding goodbye to Gharluk, I still had to walk through Gringotts’ main hall, feeling every pair of Goblin eyes follow me. After being at the bank for nearly five hours, I was beyond ready to end my day with some well-earned sleep. Just as I closed my eyes, I heard tapping on my window. Groaning, I tried not to trip over my bags or the lumpy rug that lay across the floor. My eyes pierced through the darkness beyond the window to see Alfonse’s form, made blurry by his flapping wings. I quickly let him into my bedroom, drawing the curtains shut as I sat on the edge of my bed, Alfonse landing on my shoulder.

  
     “Took you long enough to find me.” I mumbled, petting his beak. Alfonse had been with me for about fifteen years now--he was one of the few things I took with me when I left the wizarding world. He was probably the living being that knew the most about me, who I was and the many worlds I was a part of. It’s a good thing owls can’t talk.

  
     Still, Alphonse was reliable and kind-hearted, much like his namesake. I sighed at that thought.How were Alphonse and Edward? Hopefully they’d have matured a bit by the time I returned--or maybe, when I returned, I’d be coming back to that horrific scene in our house. Mother’s remains assembled into something entirely inhuman. Edward’s leg missing. Blood pooling beneath us as we searched for Alphonse, grasped for him as he disappeared. Edward’s face as he saw me disappear, too.

  
     Then, the Gates of Truth.

  
     I shivered and shook my head, bringing my hand back up to Alphonse’s head to pet him. He nudged his head further into my hand like a cat, making a shaky smile spread across my lips.

  
      Truth--she, he, it, all, one, whatever that thing wanted to call itself, could be accurately described with one word; Bastard

  
     After sending me to another dimension (at least 1500 years before I was actually needed) Truth had left me with no direction, only occasionally visiting my dreams for one apparent reason; to annoy the hell out of me.

  
     I shrugged my shoulder and Alphonse jumped off of me into the air, circling the room a few times before alighting on the wardrobe across from the bed. As I curled up, I sent a silent prayer to whoever would listen that, for one night, I might not have nightmares.

  
     I should be so lucky.

  


	9. The Golden Trio Appears--I hate the rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know that feeling?  
> The feeling you get when you've left something in the microwave and you smell something burning...  
> Or the feeling you get when your friend comes to you, crying hysterically...  
> Or that feeling when you hit the bottom of the ice cream carton with your spoon...
> 
> That's Dread.
> 
> Dread should take a vacation. I could use it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point, there's going to be a lot of excerpts from the Harry Potter books, because I want this to be somewhat canonically correct.  
> So here it is:
> 
> **DISCLAMER**  
> I do NOT own J. K. Rowling's books, or anything else under copyright protection (i.e. Fullmetal, Percy Jackson, Marvel). I my storyline, and I own Marrissa/Raven/Crow/Miss Peverell/Whatever-her-name-is-now. 
> 
> That's it.

 

_\-------Flashback------_

_Smoke curled in plumes as fire burned my skin, unforgiving as I writhed and struggled not to cry out in pain. Silhouettes surrounded me on all sides, shouts muddied as I tried to make out their words through a haze of pain._

 

_When I finally heard what was being said, I wished I were deaf._

 

_“Burn the witch!” The first clear shout was followed by several others._

 

_“Burn her!”  
_

 

_“Cast out the Devil!”_

 

_“Burn the witch!”_

 

_“Die, witch! Demon! Demon!”_

 

_“Tear her wings!”_

 

_“Cut off her legs!”_

 

_“Burn, witch!”_

 

_A man in priests’ robes approached the pyre where I was tied, clutching a Bible. “Repent and forsake your evil Master. God is merciful--he may still grant you a painless death.” he spoke loudly, self righteousness oozing from every pore._

 

_Every word felt like a stone as they pelted my conscious and shattered my insides._

 

_I gasped and choked on the heavy smoke, struggling to draw in polluted breaths as my body refused to die._

 

\---------

 

     I woke with a wheezing yell, sweat slicked hair clinging to my back as I sat up and swung my legs over the bed, standing quickly.

 

     I remembered that burning. They kept the fire going until the dawn of the next day, when all that was left of me was a burnt-out husk. I had finally learned to hold off my regeneration long enough for the townspeople to think I was dead before escaping into the nearby woods. I hadn’t dared to approach other towns for a long time after that--I hadn’t even talked with other sentient beings until I ran across Gringott and his clan of goblins.

 

     I clutched my head as a splitting headache pounded against my eyes, like something was trying to break out of my head. It was still dark outside, and I hoped it was just really early in the morning as I sat back on my bed, still clutching my head. There was no way I was going back to sleep after this.

 

\---------

 

     There was an air of general end-of-the-holidays gloom when Harry woke up that morning. Heavy rain was still splattering against the window as he got dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt--they would change into their school robes on the Hogwarts Express. He, Ron, Fred, and George had just reached the first-floor landing on their way down to breakfast, when Mrs. Weasley appeared at the foot of the stairs, looking harassed.

 

     "Arthur!" she called up the staircase. "Arthur! Urgent message from the Ministry!" Harry flattened himself against the wall as Mr. Weasley came clattering past with his robes on back-to-front and hurtled out of sight. When Harry and the others entered the kitchen, they saw Mrs. Weasley rummaging anxiously in the drawers - "I've got a quill here somewhere!" - and Mr. Weasley bending over the fire, talking to - Harry shut his eyes hard and opened them again to make sure that they were working properly.

 

     Amos Diggory's head was sitting in the middle of the flames like a large, bearded egg. It was talking very fast, completely unperturbed by the sparks flying around it and the flames licking its ears.

 

     ". . . Muggle neighbors heard bangs and shouting, so they went and called those what-d'you-call-'ems - please-men. Arthur, you've got to get over there --"

 

     "Here!" said Mrs. Weasley breathlessly, pushing a piece of parchment, a bottle of ink, and a crumpled quill into Mr. Weasley's hands.

 

     "- it's a real stroke of luck I heard about it," said Mr. Diggory's head. "I had to come into the office early to send a couple of owls, and I found the Improper Use of Magic lot all setting off -- if Rita Skeeter gets hold of this one, Arthur --"

 

     "What does Mad-Eye say happened?" asked Mr. Weasley, unscrewing the ink bottle, loading up his quill, and preparing to take notes. Mr. Diggory's head rolled its eyes. "Says he heard an intruder in his yard. Says he was creeping toward the house, but was ambushed by his dustbins."

 

     This was probably the strangest conversation Harry had ever overheard. From what he could tell, ‘Mad-eye Moody’--strange name, but wizards were all eccentric--had been attacked, or thought he had been attacked. After a scuffle with some enchanted dustbins and a flurry of jinxes, someone from the Ministry had finally arrived and calmed him down. Mr. Diggory and Mr. Weasley probably knew Moody personally, since they were obviously anxious about controlling the situation.

 

     "All right, I'm off," Mr. Weasley said, and he stuffed the parchment with his notes on it into his pocket and dashed out of the kitchen again. Mr. Diggory's head looked around at Mrs. Weasley. "Sorry about this, Molly," it said, more calmly, "bothering you so early and everything...but Arthur's the only one who can get Mad-Eye off, and Mad-Eye's supposed to be starting his new job today. Why he had to choose last night..."

 

     "Never mind, Amos," said Mrs. Weasley. "Sure you won't have a bit of toast or anything before you go?"

 

     "Oh go on, then," Mr. Diggory said. Mrs. Weasley took a piece of buttered toast from a stack on the kitchen table, put it into the fire tongs, and transferred it into Mr. Diggory's mouth. "Fanks," he said in a muffled voice, and then, with a small pop, vanished.

 

     That had been more than a little perturbing.

 

     Harry could hear Mr. Weasley calling hurried good-byes to Bill, Charlie, Percy, and the girls. Within five minutes, Mr. Weasley was back in the kitchen, his robes on the right way now, dragging a comb through his hair. "I'd better hurry - you have a good term, boys, said Mr. Weasley to Harry, Ron, and the twins, fastening a cloak over his shoulders and preparing to Disapparate. "Molly, are you going to be all right taking the kids to King's Cross?"

 

      "Of course I will," she said. "You just look after Mad-Eye, we'll be fine." As Mr. Weasley vanished, Bill and Charlie entered the kitchen. "Did someone say Mad-Eye?" Bill asked. "What's he been up to now."

 

     "He says someone tried to break into his house last night," said Mrs. Weasley.

 

     "Mad-Eye Moody?" said George thoughtfully, spreading jam on his toast. "Isn't he that nutter -"

 

     "Your father thinks very highly of Mad-Eye Moody," said Mrs. Weasley sternly.

 

     "Yeah, well, Dad collects plugs, doesn't he?" said Fred quietly as Mrs. Weasley left the room. "Birds of a feather. . ."

 

     "Who is Mad-Eye?" Harry interrupted.

 

     "He's retired, used to work at the Ministry," said Charlie. "I met him once when Dad took me into work with him. He was an Auror - one of the best. . . a Dark wizard catcher," he added, seeing Harry's blank look "Half the cells in Azkaban are full because of him. He made himself loads of enemies, though. . . the families of people he caught, mainly. . . and I heard he's been getting really paranoid in his old age. Doesn't trust anyone anymore. Sees Dark wizards everywhere."

 

     Harry took a moment to wonder what kind of life Moody had lived to make him so paranoid about strange noises outside his house.

 

     Bill and Charlie decided to come and see everyone off at King's Cross station, but Percy, apologizing rather profusely, said that he really needed to get to work.

 

     Mrs. Weasley had braved the telephone in the village post office to order three ordinary Muggle taxis to take them into London. "Arthur tried to borrow Ministry cars for us," Mrs. Weasley whispered to Harry as they stood in the rain-washed yard, watching the taxi drivers heaving six heavy Hogwarts trunks into their cars. "But there weren't any to spare. . . . Oh dear, they don't look happy, do they?" Harry didn't want to be the one to tell Mrs. Weasley that Muggle taxi drivers didn’t usually transport overexcited owls, and winced as Pigwidgeon let out another earsplitting screech.

 

     It didn’t help that several of Filibuster's Fabulous No-Heat, Wet-Start Fireworks went off unexpectedly when Fred's trunk sprang open in the rain, causing the driver carrying it to yell with fright and pain as Crookshanks clawed his way up his leg.

 

     The subsequent journey was uncomfortable, owing to the fact that they were jammed in the back of the taxis with their trunks.

 

     Harry took a moment to wonder whether the taxi driver thought they were crazy, or just eccentric.

 

\---------

 

     I cursed the Zeus as the rain soaked through my clothes, leaving me cold and soaking wet. Maybe the storm was just a product of bad London weather--or maybe it was the product of a petty King of the Olympians. Either way, I was stuck carrying my wet duffle bag and backpack as I struggled through the crowd at King’s Cross train station.

 

     I dug a hand through my pocket and pulled out a soaked and bedraggled letter, along with a ticket to "THE HOGWARTS EXPRESS". Knowing wizards, the platform for the Hogwarts Express would be hidden in some ridiculous manner. As I glanced between the ticket and the platforms in front of me, cold realization tickled my insides.

 

     “Platform 9 ¾ ,” I muttered bitterly. “What Platform 9 ¾ ?” Sure enough, platforms 9 and 10 stood before me, a seemingly solid barrier between them. I cursed again inside my head, this time directing my hatred towards the Wizarding community and its absurd Ministry.

 

     Sighing, I reached my conscious out to examine the solid barrier before me--and subsequently narrowed my eyes. There was quite a bit of serious spellwork protecting the entrance to Platform ‘9 ¾ ‘.

 

     As far as I could tell, there were at least 6 anti-muggle wards, combined with nearly 20 various anti-detection and secrecy wards. It would be impossible to discover the entrance without having someone tell you where it was. Ingenious, but overcomplicated--a common theme of all wizarding work.

 

      After glancing around to make sure no one was watching me, I rested a hand against the barrier. Sure enough; my hand slid right through, like the brick wall wasn’t even there. I shifted my bags before stepping through the barrier entirely, shivering as the cold feeling of magic passed through me. On the other side was a bustling platform, with witches and wizards and an unanticipated amount of teenagers. I had arrived nearly 30 minutes early to avoid the worst of the crowd, but it seemed like most of Hogwarts’ future populace and their families had the same idea.

 

     I reeled at the sheer amount of noise--cats and owls were screeching in turns, while the rare frog croaked in response--and took a moment to appreciate my decision to have Alphonse fly to Hogwarts on his own. He would have despised me for forcing him into a cage, and then into a train. He had pride, after all.

 

     The cacophony of animal voices clouded my brain until my mind was too full to function. After spending several minutes gathering my thoughts, I had finally shut out the overwhelming noise enough to step up into one of the train cars, away from the bustling crowd. A long hallway stretched before me, compartments lined up on either side. Looking into the first compartment to my right--and seeing that it was empty--I hauled my duffle bag up and dumped it onto the overhead luggage rack. At least Wizards had adapted _some_ muggle travelling apparatuses.

 

     Digging through my backpack until I found a satisfactory thick book, I shut my compartment door and curled up for a very long, rather uncomfortable train ride.

 

\---------

 

      Crookshanks had taken quite a while to recover from the fireworks, and by the time they entered London, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all severely scratched. Ron had suffered in particular, as Crookshanks tended to swipe hostilely whenever he was close enough.

 

     The uncomfortable taxi ride meant they were very relieved to get out at King's Cross, even though the rain was coming down harder than ever--they were all soaked by the time they carried their trunks across the busy road and into the station. Harry was almost used to getting onto platform nine and three-quarters by now; it was a simple matter of walking straight through the apparently solid barrier dividing platforms nine and ten.

 

     The only tricky part was doing this in an unobtrusive way, so as to avoid attracting Muggle attention. They did it in groups today, as they were running late like usual; Harry, Ron, and Hermione (the most conspicuous, since they were accompanied by Pigwidgeon and Crookshanks) went first; they leaned casually against the barrier, chatting unconcernedly, and slid sideways through it. . . and as they did so, platform nine and three-quarters materialized in front of them.

 

      The Hogwarts Express, a gleaming scarlet steam engine, was already there, clouds of steam billowing from it, through which the many Hogwarts students and parents on the platform appeared like dark ghosts. Pigwidgeon became noisier than ever in response to the hooting of many owls through the mist. Harry, Ron, and Hermione set off to find seats, and were soon stowing their luggage in a compartment halfway along the train.

 

     They then hopped back down onto the platform to say good-bye to Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and Charlie. "I might be seeing you all sooner than you think," said Charlie, grinning, as he hugged Ginny good-bye.

 

     "Why?" said Fred keenly.

 

     "You'll see," said Charlie. "Just don't tell Percy I mentioned it.. . it's 'classified information, until such time as the Ministry sees fit to release it,' after all."

 

     "Yeah, I sort of wish I were back at Hogwarts this year," said Bill, hands in his pockets, looking almost wistfully at the train.

 

     "Why?" said George impatiently.

 

     "You're going to have an interesting year," said Bill, his eyes twinkling. "I might even get time off to come and watch a bit of it."

 

     "A bit of what?" asked Ron, facing Bill with a quizzical look in his eye.

 

     But at that moment, the whistle blew, and Mrs. Weasley ushered them quickly toward the train doors.

 

     "Thanks for letting us stay over break, Mrs. Weasley," said Hermione as they climbed on board, closed the door, and leaned out of the window to talk to her. "Yeah, thanks for everything, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry.

 

     "Oh it was my pleasure, dears," said Mrs. Weasley. "I'd invite you for Christmas, but...well, I expect you're all going to want to stay at Hogwarts, what with. . . one thing and another."

 

     "Mum!" said Ron irritably. "What d'you three know that we don't?"

 

     "You'll find out this evening, I expect," said Mrs. Weasley, smiling. "It's going to be very exciting - mind you, I'm very glad they've changed the rules -"

 

     "What rules?" said Harry, Ron, Fred, and George together, all exasperated at this point. Harry wondered why the Weasley’s kept mentioning some mysterious event at Hogwarts if they couldn’t actually tell them what it was.

 

     "I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will tell you. . . . Now, behave, won't you? Won't you, Fred? And you, George?"

 

     The train’s pistons hissed loudly as they began to move. "Tell us what's happening at Hogwarts!" Fred bellowed out of the window as Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and Charlie sped out of sight. "What rules are they changing?"

 

     Mrs. Weasley only smiled and waved. Before the train had rounded the corner, she, Bill, and Charlie had Disapparated.

 

     Harry, Ron, and Hermione went back to the compartment they had stored their luggage in earlier. The thick rain splattering the windows made it very difficult to see out of them. Ron undid his trunk, pulled out his maroon dress robes, and flung them over Pigwidgeon's cage to muffle his hooting.

 

     "Bagman wanted to tell us what's happening at Hogwarts," he said grumpily, sitting down next to Harry. "At the World Cup, remember? But my own mother won't say. Wonder what --"

 

     "Shh!" Hermione whispered suddenly, pressing her finger to her lips and pointing toward the compartment next to theirs. Harry and Ron listened, and heard a familiar drawling voice drifting in through the open door. ". . . Father actually considered sending me to Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts, you know. He knows the headmaster, you see. Well, you know his opinion of Dumbledore - the man's such a Mudblood-lover - and Durmstrang doesn't admit that sort of riffraff. But Mother didn't like the idea of me going to school so far away. Father says Durmstrang takes a far more sensible line than Hogwarts about the Dark Arts. Durmstrang students actually learn them, not just the defense rubbish we do. . . ."

 

     Hermione got up, tiptoed to the compartment door, and slid it shut, blocking out Malfoy's voice. "So he thinks Durmstrang would have suited him, does he?" she said angrily. "I wish he had gone, then we wouldn't have to put up with him."

 

     "Durmstrang's another wizarding school?" asked Harry. There were other wizarding schools out there? He hadn’t really considered it before, but as he considered it, he supposed it made sense. Not every magical child could go to Hogwarts, after all.

 

     "Yes," said Hermione sniffily, "and it's got a horrible reputation. According to An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe, it puts a lot of emphasis on the Dark Arts."

 

     "I think I've heard of it," said Ron vaguely.

 

     "Where is it? What country?"  Harry was curious about what another magical school was like. Was it in a huge castle, like Hogwarts? Did it have resident ghosts and poltergeists as well?

 

     "Well, nobody knows, do they?" said Hermione, raising her eyebrows.

 

     "Er - why not?" asked Harry. Shouldn’t magical schools have some information available to the general wizarding populace?  

 

      "There's traditionally been a lot of rivalry between all the magic schools. Durmstrang and Beauxbatons like to conceal their whereabouts so nobody can steal their secrets," said Hermione matter-of-factly.

 

     "Come off it," said Ron, starting to laugh. "Durmstrang's got to be about the same size as Hogwarts -- how are you going to hide a great big castle?"

 

     "But Hogwarts is hidden," said Hermione, in surprise. "Everyone knows that.. . well, everyone who's read Hogwarts, A History, anyway."

 

     "Just you, then," said Ron, dryly. "So go on - how d'you hide a place like Hogwarts?"

 

     "It's bewitched," said Hermione. "If a Muggle looks at it, all they see is a moldering old ruin with a sign over the entrance saying DANGER, DO NOT ENTER, UNSAFE."

 

     "So Durmstrang'll just look like a ruin to an outsider too?"

 

     "Maybe," said Hermione, shrugging, "or it might have Muggle-repelling charms on it, like the World Cup stadium. And to keep foreign wizards from finding it, they'll have made it Unplottable -"

 

     "Come again?" Harry interrupted. Why did wizards have their own vocabulary?

 

     “Well, you can enchant a building so it's impossible to plot on a map, can't you?"

 

     "Er. . . if you say so," said Harry.

 

     "But I think Durmstrang must be somewhere in the far north," said Hermione thoughtfully. "Somewhere very cold, because they've got fur capes as part of their uniforms."

 

     "Ah, think of the possibilities," said Ron dreamily. "It would've been so easy to push Malfoy off a glacier and make it look like an accident...shame his mother likes him...."

 

     The rain became heavier and heavier as the train moved farther north.


	10. I'm not Short, You're Inhumanly Tall--an Annoying Train Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trying to write Hagrid's accent is like trying to swallow swords--everything's fine if you know what you're doing.
> 
> But I don't know what I'm doing.  
> I can almost feel the proverbial sword cutting my throat open.  
> It hurts.

     I snorted and shut my book. With all the muttering going on in the compartments around me, it was impossible to concentrate on the magical theory of Unsustainable Conjuration. After taking a wistful moment to yearn for the incantation of the silencing charm--which I had  _ conveniently _ forgotten--I sighed. If I couldn’t get any real work done, I might as well sleep and save my energy for whatever crazy scheme Dumbledore would come up with while I was at Hogwarts. Just then, a knock came at my door. I heard the voices outside:

 

      “Are you sure there’s someone in there? I can’t hear anything.” came a high-pitched voice (probably female).

 

       “Of course I’m sure,” drawled another voice, this one lower and less annoying. “I saw someone in here while I was stowing my luggage in our compartment.” I could’ve sworn there had been no one in the hall when I chose my compartment, but if whoever was talking had really been in a compartment when I chose mine, it might explain why I hadn’t seen them. “Besides, the blinds are drawn.” Had I done that? I couldn’t remember.

 

       “Well, if someone’s in there, why’s it taking them so long to respond?” Whined the first voice. ‘Yes, why is it taking you so long?’ my inner voice snarked.

 

      ‘Because I’m lazy, and I don’t want to bother with teenagers right now.’ I responded apathetically.

 

    ‘You have to get used to interacting with teenage wizards at some point,’ my inner voice responded reasonably. ‘You’ll be stuck with them for a whole year.’

 

     I groaned. I hated it when my inner voice was right. I got up and straightened my hoodie, making sure my hood was up before opening my compartment door reluctantly. As soon as the door opened, The two people standing in front of me stopped talking and turned away from each other to face me. “What?” I asked rudely. Maybe not my best introduction, but practice makes perfect. Or decent.

 

     The blonde boy in front of my wrinkled his face slightly while the plain girl by hi side twisted her expression into some mockery of the human face. Out of the corners of my  eyes I saw two hulking figures, both boys, flanking the lovely couple.

      The blonde, nose still wrinkled slightly in distaste, spoke. “I believe those of a lower standing should introduce themselves with respect to their superiors.”

 

     I raised my eyebrows About...two days into my return to the wizarding world, and I was finally having my first taste of the wizarding superiority complex. If my guess was correct, the group in front of my was made up of ‘Purebloods’.

 

     I pondered the blonde boy’s words for a moment before finally taking the easy route. “Alicia. You?” I said, the lack of emotion clear in my voice. 

 

      The boy paused before finally answering, “Draco Malfoy. Though, by the way you dress, I suppose you don’t understand one bit of how important I am.”

 

      I looked down. My current clothing consisted of a hoodie, sneakers, and a plain pair of jeans--all muggle clothing that a pureblood wizard wouldn’t be caught dead in. Still, his last name intrigued me. “Malfoy?” I asked, letting my curiosity bleed into my tone.

 

      He sneered. “Maybe you aren’t as ignorant as I thought.”

 

      Oh.

 

      Was this what my descendants had become?

 

      How depressing. 

 

      My eyes narrowed as I contemplated my options. As much as I valued family, I was already trying to prevent two of my descendants from killing each other; I didn’t need to complicate matters further by getting to know the rest of my extended family. Decision made, I quickly blurted out, “Nevermind.” before shutting the compartment door in their faces. Hopefully his annoyance would outweigh his curiosity and he would decide I wasn’t worth the effort.

 

\---------

 

      The next time I came into consciousness the rain was coming down harder than ever, and the train was slowly struggling its way into the soaking station. A quick glance  through the drawn blinds of my compartment showed me a teeming mass of teenagers in black robes, scrambling to get off the train. It didn’t look like any of them were taking their luggage...perhaps I could trust Hogwarts enough to leave my duffle bag and backpack behind. After casting a quick shrinking charm over my pouch and slipping it into my jacket pocket and reinforcing the locating charms on my luggage, I glanced through my compartment blinds again, noticing a slight reduction in the number or students milling about the carriage. 

 

      With another few minutes to kill, I settled on transfiguring my clothes. While I wasn’t about to adopt the standard wizarding attire (how did they avoid tripping over their robes?), walking into Hogwarts wearing jeans and a hoodie would be incredibly conspicuous; and my goal was to blend in, as much as I could without sacrificing my own comfort. After a long moment of consideration(and double-checking to make sure my blinds were completely shut) I decided to adopt a simple button-up shirt and slacks, completing the look with a loose brown trench coat. 

 

      It took another, long moment for me to finally decide to forgo any sort of hood--once again, hiding my face would be incredibly conspicuous; and I really didn’t want to stand out any more than I already would.

 

      It was a nod to my typical wardrobe in the 40’s, and wasn’t one I particularly disliked, considering the bad weather . With my pouch carefully stowed in the pocket of my new overcoat I opened my compartment door and stepped out of the carriage. The darkness did nothing to hide the number of students on the station platform. Students were calling out to each other, coalescing into their own socially-constructed groups as they huddled against the pelting downpour. Suddenly, a voice, gruff and loud, called out above the drumming rain.

 

      “Firs’ years, this way! This way, firs’ years!”

 

      A hulking figure carried a lantern in his over-sized hands, swinging it back and forth as he gestured towards a large, muddy path. A steady stream of midgets--no, 11-year-olds--were trudging in the direction he pointed, a path which led down to the Black Lake. Through the darkness I could make out a wild beard, untamed by the stormy weather, thick, muddy boots, and a lumpy, oversized overcoat that glistened in the scant lantern-light. His stature was too large to be normal, but as far as I knew there had been no successful giant-human couples in the last few decades. Or the last century. Maybe he had had an irreversible magical accident as a child?

 

      Gripping the shrunken pouch in my pocket for reassurance, I made my way towards the giant man. Though I wasn’t eleven, it was ‘technically’ my ‘first year’ attending Hogwarts, even if I wasn’t exactly a student. Besides, after a quick glance at my surroundings it was easy to determine that there were no other adults around, and I doubted the students rushing towards the carriages at the far side of the platform would be much help.

 

      I pushed through the crowd until I was standing directly in front of the man. Ducking to avoid his still-gesturing hand, I called out, “Excuse me!”

 

      The man paused his shouting for a moment and looked down. “Excuse me!” I repeated, straightening as the man lowered his lantern to look at my face.

 

      “Wha’re you doin’ ‘ere?” he boomed out, peering down, a puzzled look barely visible through his thick mess of a beard.

 

      “I’m staying at the castle for a while.” I practically shouted, trying to be heard over the noise of scurrying students and pounding rain.  The giant man finally seemed to realize I wasn’t wearing student robes. “I’m a friend of Dumbledore’s. I just don’t know where to go.” I finished,wet hair plastered across my face.

 

      The giant man paused. “Welll...I sup’ose you could stay wi’ me, jus’ ‘til we get to Hogwar’s, I mean.” he boomed out

 

      I nodded carefully. “So, I just follow you?” I shouted again.

 

      “Yeah, i’ looks like mos’ o’ the firs’ years are alrea’y down a’ the boats.” he started lumbering--or rather, stomping--down the path. I followed, struggling to keep up with his long stride. The last group of midgets was visible just a few feet in front of us as they huddled together against the cold night wind. The man beside me continued to ramble on,

 

      “Y’see, I know Dumbldore’s a grea’ man, and he know plen’y of other great people. I jus’ didn’ know he was invit’n someone tere stay a’ Hogwar’s durin’ the school year. Highly unusual, y’know.” he cast a side glance at me. “ ‘Specially fere someone yere…” his voice trailed off for once, shaking me out of my own thoughts.

 

      “My what?” I asked as the increasing deluge and consequent shouts from the students drowned out all sound.

 

      “Er...I was jus’ sayin’ how unusual it is fere Dumbledore to invite someone tere stay a’ Hogwar’s.” he boomed a bit louder, looking a bit mollified.

 

      “Ah. Yes. Rather unusual, I guess, but Hogwarts does have one of the most extensive libraries in Northern Europe.”

 

       “Ye’re here tere read?” The man said, a bit strangely. It wasn’t that strange was it?

 

      “Well, research.” I clarified, looking up at him. “Actually, I don’t think I ever caught your name. What was it?”

 

      “Hag’rid.” the giant man beamed. He had a very happy personality--for a moment, I wondered how he could be so optimistic when his strange stature almost guaranteed he was ostracized by most of the wizarding community. “What’s yere name?”

 

       “Hm?” the man seemed to have the strange ability of catching me off guard.

 

      “Yere name,” He repeated, beetle-black eyes crinkling as he smiled somewhere beneath his beard.

 

     “Oh. Er…” I hadn’t thought of one yet, but I might as well give him the name Dumbledore used.  “Alicia.” I said

 

       The man turned back to the group of first years ahead of us as we neared the black lake. Seeing the gathered first years standing around the boats at the shoreline, Hagrid called out, “No more’n four tere a boat!” before making his way towards his own boat. He didn’t say anything against me tagging along, so I simply got into the same boat as he did. Once all the midgets were aboard, The giant man dug out a (admittedly hideous) pink umbrella from beneath his now slightly-less-lumpy overcoat, pointing the umbrella towards Hogwarts. In the same movement, all the boats surged  across the Lake, the peaceful sound of rippling of water punctuated by the whispers of the surrounding students.

 

     The heavy mist above the lake cleared and Hogwarts’ glimmering visage came into view, even through the curtain of rain; stately stone arches and weather-worn buttresses adorned with the warm glow of habitation welcomed the nervous midgets who squirmed and rocked the boats to get a better look at their new home.

 

      The raindrops battered a harsh tempo against the rippling black water as one boat in particular rocked frantically, its occupants screaming in fright as they made the rocking worse. The panic spread and Hagrid tried to calm down the eleven-year-olds.

 

      “Calm down, jus’ a bi’ o’ rain and wind, we’ll de a’ Hogwar’s soon. Tha’ yellin won’ do nobody any good!” 

 

      Some of the students heeded the giant man’s loud words, but the rocking boats continued to sway on the swelling waves. The wind blew harder, whipping hair and robes into a miniature tornado and a particularly large wave charged towards a boat of screaming first-years.

 

      “Calm down! Stay i’ the center o’ the boa’!” Hagrid roared over the storm, drowned out by the pounding wind and frothing waves. I raised my arms to guard my face from my hair, which was currently whipping fiercely around my head like an aggressive halo. I smoothed as much of it as I could back into a ponytail, peering against the harsh wind in time to see a boy, tiny even for his age, go tipping over the edge of his rowboat. The screams rose in volume as lightning flashed and I began shedding my overcoat, preparing to jump in after the child. 

 

      But before I had even reached the edge of the boat Hagrid and I shared, a huge tentacle thrust through the frothing water, lighting illuminating what it gripped tightly above the surface--a squirming, coughing boy. The tentacle carefully lowered the boy towards Hagrid’s boat as I stared in shock. 

 

      I had forgotten there was a giant squid.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter, the next section's just really long. I'm trying to make these chapters more bite-size, especially after the first one.


	11. Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy, Warty, Hogwarts--Teach Us Something, Please

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I feel like at this point, humanity just keeps coming up with new languages for fun.
> 
> There's Klingon, Esperanto, ...I mean, who even speaks Faroese?
> 
> And then there's the 'Language of Flowers'.
> 
> I'm just saying, we over-complicate communication for no reason. It's like the entire world is made up of angsty teens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, **DISCLAMER**
> 
> I don't own blahblahblah except for blahblahblah and also blahblahblah.
> 
> That's it.

     The rest of the journey to Hogwarts consisted of Hagrid’s mumbled grumbling, the soaked boy’s shivering, and a feeling of instant relief as soon as the boats reached the Hogwarts shoreline. 

 

     All the first years scrambled to get off the terrifyingly tiny rowboats as Hagrid and I helped the soaked boy, whose name was apparently Dennis Creevey, escape the tiny wooden boat, burdened as he was with Hagrid’s lumpy (and very wet) coat. Hagrid hurried to lead the group of children up the stone steps to the castle’s entrance, pounding three times on the great oak doors.

 

     The doors swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes and a stern face stood there. Her piercing green eyes scoured the crowd of shivering first years, flickering over to myself and Dennis, before settling on Hagrid.

 

     "The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

 

     "Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here." She pulled the door wide. 

 

     The entrance hall was so big you could have fit an entire two story house inside it and still have room left over. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors. 

 

     The group of children followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor, Hagrid pushing Dennis towards the end of the line, leaving the boy covered in his lumpy, furry overcoat. I trailed behind the group, a little lost. The drone of hundreds of voices filtered through a doorway to the right--the rest of the school must already be here -- but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They all crowded in, huddling closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously and mumbling to each other. I chose a conveniently positioned wall to lean against, using my height to look over the children and watch the Professor.

 

     "Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall, and the mumbling immediately quieted. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room. The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin.”--my breath hitched at  _ that _ particular piece of information-- “Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rulebreaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours. The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting." Her eyes lingered over the childrens’ plastered, wet hair and soaked school robes.

 

     Apparently resigned that there wasn’t much to be done about the first-years’ bedraggled appearance, she quirked her mouth to the side before turning on her heel. "I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall, stopping at the entrance of the small chamber. "Please wait quietly."

 

     I watched the convulsive shivers of the first years as a chill fought to enter my soaked  overcoat. It  _ was _ really cold outside, and the wind had immediately leeched any warmth that gathered beneath my soaked shirt and slacks. The cold was prickling and uncomfortable, but I wasn’t cold enough to actually shiver. I rarely was. Something had happened when I crossed through the Gate of Truth because when I came out the other side, I had wound up with a resistance to cold, among...other things. Like the wings. And the magic. And the bloody nightmares. The only special trait I used to have was her alchemy--now I had too many to keep track of.

 

     I thought back on Professor McGonagall and Hagrid. It was almost strange that they didn’t try to cast any spells to dry the first-years or warm them, but I supposed they were rather occupied with the other effects of the rainstorm. I could only imagine how much water had gathered in the castle’s many corridors. I still had no idea what I was supposed to do, and I regretted not grabbing McGonagall before she had left. Hagrid had disappeared somewhere between entering the castle and McGonagall leading them away. Determined to talk to McGonagall before the first years were led to the Sorting, I edged around the back wall of the small chamber, trying to make my way to the entrance so I could wait for her to return.

 

     The shivering eleven year olds beagan to chatter, their voices growing in volume until it became a dull rumble of murmuring voices. I put their voices to my back as I surveyed the hall outside the small chamber. The torch light shone on the wet footprints that covered the flagstone floors, covering the hall in yellow light--except for a small gathering of silver, misty light. Squinting, I tried to make out the gradually growing blur of ghostly figures, whose voices were barely discernible  between the mumbling first years and the rumbling voices down the opposite end of the hall.

 

     I watched the ghosts curiously, silently hoping that they would come closer. I sighed in disappointment as they turned--did they just disappear through that wall??--and shifted my position so that I was facing the brighter end of the hall, the end where the rumbling voices of the older students bled through the giant double-doors. A stern-faced Professor McGonagall was swiftly making her way towards me.

 

     “Excuse me, Professor?” I called out quietly. Her sharp eyes locked onto my lack of uniform and unusual height--I  _ was  _ too tall to be a first year.

 

     “What are you doing outside the great hall? And where are your school robes?” she asked in clipped, controlled tones. The teachers must’ve been more stressed than I thought. Or maybe this one was just uptight.

 

      “I’m staying at Hogwarts this year, to use your library. I have permission from Dumbledore.” 

 

     She eyed me suspiciously. “Albus mentioned we would have to prepare for a visitor, but I didn’t think his associate would be someone so...young.”

 

     I flinched at her biting words. “I’m older than I look.” I said defensively. “If you need proof, I can probably bring out his letter…” I began searching my pockets. I was pretty sure there was a charm for summoning things...I might’ve mastered it wandlessly, but if I could just remember the incantation…

 

     “I don’t think that will be necessary.” the Professor spoke, mouth twitching to one side. Was she trying not to smile? It vanished a moment later, leaving me to wonder at the intricacies of human emotion.

 

     “...so, do I just stay at the back of the line?” I asked slowly, brow still furrowed in confusion.

 

     “Yes. Until I can decide what to do with you, I will ask that you line up behind the first-years. Albus will likely introduce you; I’ll leave this in his hands.” She continued walking towards the entrance and stepped inside the small chamber, facing the first years.

 

     "Move along now,"she called out sharply. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start." Professor McGonagall had officially returned. "Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me." The children stumbled oddly, as though their legs had turned to lead, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall. 

 

     I had only ever imagined such a strange and splendid place. 

 

     It was lit by thousands upon thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the staff were sitting. Piercing blue eyes twinkled amongst the teachers, and I felt a sudden urge of irritation. Albus  _ was  _ playing games with me, not telling me where to go or what to do. Maybe this was his petty revenge for all those chess games.

 

     Professor McGonagall led the first years up to the teacher’s table, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. I struggled to stare out at the students, instead of turning to glare at Dumbledore. The first years were organized into a neat, single-file line--all of them except the smallest of the lot, Dennis, who was still wrapped in Hagrid's over-sized overcoat. The coat was so big for him that it hooked as though he were draped in a furry black circus tent. His small face protruded from over the collar, looking almost painfully excited. 

 

     When he had lined up with his terrified-looking peers, he caught another boy’s eye, one of the children sitting at a table with red and gold banners, gave a double thumbs-up, and mouthed, ‘I fell in the lake!’ 

 

     He looked positively delighted about it. 

 

     I kept to the back of the line, leaving a small distance between myself and the last eleven-year-old while I looked at the sea of children that filled the four tables.

 

     The hundreds of faces staring at the first-years looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, I looked upward and saw black and purple clouds swirling across the ceiling; as another thunderclap sounded outside, a fork of lightning flashed across it.

 

     There must’ve been a spell, bewitching the ceiling to look like the sky outside. It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply open on to the heavens. I looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a three-legged stool in front of the first years. 

 

     On top of the stool she put an extremely old and pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed, and extremely dirty. Maybe the children had to try and get a rabbit out of it, I thought wildly, pitying the first years who appeared to be shivering more from nerves than cold at this point. 

 

     The first years stared at the hat. So did everyone else. For a moment, there was silence. Then a long tear near the brim opened wide like a mouth, and the hat broke into song: 

 

_ A thousand years or more ago, _

_ When I was newly sewn,  _

_ There lived four wizards of renown,  _

_ Whose names are still well known:  _

_ Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor,  _

_ Fair Ravenclaw, from glen,  _

_ Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad,  _

_ Shrewd Slytherin, from fin.  _

_ They shared a wish, a hope, a dream,  _

_ They hatched a daring plan  _

_ To educate young sorcerers  _

_ Thus Hogwarts School began.  _

_ Now each of these four founders  _

_ Formed their own House, for each  _

_ Did value different virtues  _

_ In the ones they had to teach.  _

_ By Gryffindor, the bravest were  _

_ Prized far beyond the rest;  _

_ For Ravenclaw, the cleverest  _

_ Would always be the best;  _

_ For Hufflepuff, hard workers were  _

_ Most worthy of admission;  _

_ And power-hungry Slytherin  _

_ Loved those of great ambition.  _

_ While still alive they did divide  _

_ Their favorites from the throng,  _

_ Yet how to pick the worthy ones  _

_ When they were dead and gone?  _

_ 'Twas Gryffindor who found the way,  _

_ He whipped me off his head  _

_ The founders put some brains in me  _

_ So I could choose instead!  _

_ Now slip me snug about your ears,  _

_ I've never yet been wrong, _

_ I'll have a look inside your mind  _

_ And tell where you belong!  _

 

     The Great Hall rang with applause as the Sorting Hat finished. Murmurs of appreciation came from each of the four student tables.

 

     I, for one, stood in shocked silence. I hadn’t seen Godric in over eighteen centuries, but I certainly didn’t remember him owning a pointed wizards’ hat. Maybe it was a bad habit he had picked up when he grew old and senile. 

 

     I also hadn’t stayed around the four ‘Founders’ long enough to see them fight over how to place the students. There had always been this underlying tension as the four leaders’ ideals clashed, but they had all worked together to teach the entire student body. Then again, I thought as I surveyed the crowd of children once more, there hadn’t been nearly this many children attending Hogwarts when I left.

 

     Professor McGonagall was now standing at the front of the Great Hall and unrolling a large scroll of parchment. "When I call out your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool," she told the first years. "When the hat announces your House, you will go and sit at the appropriate table.” She looked back at the scroll.

 

     "Ackerley, Stewart!" A boy walked forward, visibly trembling from head to foot, picked up the Sorting Hat, put it on, and sat down on the stool. 

 

     "RAVENCLAW!" shouted the hat. Stewart Ackerley took off the hat and hurried into a seat at the table with blue and bronze hangings, where everyone was applauding him. That must be the group that followed Rowena’s personal code which prized wisdom and intelligence.

 

     "Baddock, Malcolm!" 

 

     "SLYTHERIN!" The table on the other side of the hall, decorated with green and silver banners, erupted with cheers; I glanced over and spotted the blonde boy from the train (Draco Malfoy, was it?), surrounded by an adoring group of sycophants. As Malcolm Baddock gleefully walked over to his new Slytherin friends, I heard boos and hisses from the table nearest to me, which was sporting red and gold banners. Looks like Gryffindor and Slytherin’s teasing disagreements had devolved into something more sinister over the years.

 

     "Branstone, Eleanor!" 

 

     "HUFFLEPUFF!" This time it was a table with yellow and black banners that erupted into cheers, welcoming the stumbling, grinning girl into their midst. Helga was always kind to those around her, and determination defined her very being. 

 

     "Cauldwell, Owen!"

 

     "HUFFLEPUFF!"

 

     Another Hufflepuff? Hopefully Helga’s penchant for accepting everyone hadn’t lowered the standards for joining her table. Or what did they call them? Houses? I was pretty sure McGonagall and that hat called them Houses.

 

     "Creevey, Dennis!"

 

     Tiny Dennis staggered forward, tripping over Hagrid's coat, just as I saw Hagrid himself sidle into the Hall through a door behind the teachers' table. About twice as tall as the normal teachers, and at least three times as broad, Hagrid, with his long, wild, tangled black hair and beard, looked slightly alarming - a misleading impression, because as far as I had seen, Hagrid had a very kind nature. He winked towards the red and gold table as he sat down at the end of the staff table and watched Dennis Creevey put on the Sorting Hat. The rip at the brim opened wide-- 

 

     “GRYFFINDOR!" the hat shouted

 

     The red and gold table--Gryffindor House--roared with cheers and Dennis went to sit with another boy who had the same mousey brown hair as him. He must’ve had an older brother at Hogwarts, then. I wondered how Hagrid planned on getting his overcoat back from the tiny boy.

 

     The Sorting continued; boys and girls with varying degrees of fright on their faces moving one by one to the three-legged stool, the line dwindling slowly as Professor McGonagall passed the D's, then the E’s, then the L’s, R’s, and the Q’s.

 

     Finally, Whitbey, Kevin was sorted into Ravenclaw, and the Sorting ended. Professor McGonagall picked up the hat and stool, leaving me to face the hungry horde of teenagers. I glanced at the teacher’s table, searching for that familiar blue-eyed twinkle. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore gave an infuriatingly bright smile and stood, silencing the hall with no apparent effort.

 

     “I’m afraid there is one more matter to address before we bring out the welcoming feast.” Albus said, his cheerful tone making my teeth grind. A collective groan spread across the hall and a few of the more intelligent students looked my way, obviously curious as to why I hadn’t been sorted with the other first-years. 

 

     “This year, I have the honor of welcoming Alicia Peverell to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” I snorted at Albus’ use of the school’s full name while he waited for the students to stop chattering. When the volume had died down, he spoke again.

 

     “Alicia will not be attending as a student--however, she has been welcomed to make full use of Hogwarts’ extensive library.” Why doesn’t he just spit out my life goals while he’s at it? Though this would give me the excuse to practically live in the library. “Due to her lack of House allegiance, Alicia is welcome to chose any table to sit at during mealtimes, or to sit with the staff.” F*ck that. Sitting with the teachers would be  beyond conspicuous--thought I  _ almost _ wanted to try sitting next to Dumbledore, just to spite him.

 

     Key word:  _ almost.  _

 

     His ‘speech’ finished, Albus spread his arms wide in welcome. “Now I have only two words to say to you," he told them, his deep voice echoing around the Hall. "Tuck in."

 

     The golden plates and goblets were suddenly, magically filled with food. I could feel the magic coming off the feast in roiling waves as it dispersed on its journey towards the bewitched ceiling. I had never seen so many different foods in one room: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs.

 

     Shaking myself out of my food-induced reverie, I caught a flash of blonde hair at the far end of the Great Hall. A slow, Cheshire grin made its way across my face as I made my way through the four tables, sidling up behind one Draco Malfoy. I poked  the teeanger’s stiff shoulder, unable to hide my grin at this point. Unfortunately, the blonde boy had just taken a carefully-controlled bite of mashed potatoes--at least my descendants had table manners--and he choked in surprise. The brown-haired girl at his side immediately started smothering him with her arms as he spluttered and coughed, the two hulking boys across the table looking on in shock. The children nearest to us looked on in silent surprise.

 

     Throughout all this my grin grew wider.

 

     I waited until the boy had finished the worst of his hacking coughs before I spoke. “Hello.” I said, not bothering to keep the unbridled glee from my voice. “I believe we met on the train.” I held out my hand. Pureblood tradition decreed that a handshake was a sign of truce--by shaking my hand, Malfoy would be acknowledging and alliance of sorts. 

 

     The blonde narrowed his eyes at my proffered limb before sliding his gaze up to my face. “You were the rude one from the compartment next door.” He said slowly, his face still red from nearly choking to death.

 

     “Well, I wouldn’t say rude. Well, maybe a little rude. Maybe rude. Probably rude. I don’t really remember--your chatter outside my compartment door had just woken me up from a rather unsettling dream.” I smiled grimly. The boy stared blankly as he tried to absorb the barrage of information I was spouting off. He must’ve gathered his wits at some point because he eventually spoke again.

 

     “So why’re you here?” he asked rudely. “Are you part of the Tournament?” a hint of genuine curiosity showed in his eyes.

 

     “Tournament?” I said suspiciously. “What kind of game is Albus--er, Dumbledore--er, the Headmaster, playing at now?” I internally winced at my slip up. Calling Albus by his first name was as bad as telling the entire school that I was friends with their eccentric Headmaster. The boy caught my slip-up and he let his pride show freely on his face. He twisted his body around on the bench and shot his arm out, clasping my still-proffered hand and firmly shaking it as he leaned in towards my ear. 

 

     “So, you know the Headmaster personally?” he all but whispered. I mentally groaned--why did my descendents have to have some modicum of intelligence?

 

     “Perhaps.” I finally said. “Maybe I would be more amiable if I put some food in my stomach?” I mentioned with an obvious glance towards the tempting spread before me. Malfoy smirked smugly and turned towards his hulking lackeys.

 

     “Crabbe! Goyle!” he bit out sharply. “Let’s make room for our guest.” he smirked. 

 

     He smirked a lot.

 

     The two boys shifted to opposite sides, leaving a small gap between them, large enough for me to sit in.

 

     I raised an eyebrow. “I appreciate it.” I sat, relishing the sight of the food in front of me before I dug in. The food at Camp Half-Blood was good, don’t get me wrong--but American brisket had nothing on traditional, homemade Shepherd's pie. A clean golden plate had appeared before me as I sat down, and I wasted no time loading it up with my favorite English dishes, barely listening as the blonde boy spoke again.

 

     “So, you’re Alicia Peverell, are you? My father knows every influential wizarding family in Britain, but I haven’t heard him talk about any Peverells. And your accent--are you American? My father says the American Ministry is worse than incompetent, and their educational system fails to properly teach wizarding tradition and magical theory. Is that why you’ve come to Hogwarts? I think you’ll find Hogwarts is leagues better than any  _ American  _ wizarding school. And here we have laws on how to properly deal with magical creatures. Honestly, the way you Americans treat magical creatures--giving them rights and a proper place in Parliament--or whatever you call your magical governing system.”

 

     Blonde boy talked too much, I decided, firmly setting down my knife and fork and wiping my mouth with a napkin.

 

     “First of all.” I sat down the napkin, “I daresay I’ve lived in Europe longer than you have. I’ve been in the United States--which, by the way, only takes up a portion of the  _ North American continent _ \--for the past two years pursuing my own interests, and I’ve recently returned to Britain to study a particular field of magic.” Malfoy looked at me, eyes widening. “I have had little experience with the United States magical governing system--or muggle governing system, come to think about it--and have no connections on the American continent that would be of any use to you or your family.”

 

     “Furthermore, I plan on keeping my European contacts to myself, so don’t bother asking about those.” I looked Draco Malfoy right in the eyes as I spoke, my steely gaze overcoming his feeble teenage ‘determination’. “What I’m more interested in is this Tournament you mentioned earlier. What exactly is Dumbledore--”

 

     Another clap of thunder shook the windows, and the stormy ceiling flashed, illuminating the golden plates as the remains of the first course vanished and were replaced, instantly, with puddings. I shuddered as magic roiled off the tables once again. Who had enough power to make masses of food like this appear and disappear at a whim? My gaze unconsciously flickered towards Dumbledore, who was currently eyeing the red and gold--Gryffindor--table. Still distracted, Ii followed his gaze to rest on a fourteen-year-old boy with wild, jet-black hair and--I squinted--yes, pure green eyes. A focused glance at his forehead revealed a strangely-shaped scratch that, as I looked harder, seemed to be emitting a black, twisting magic. 

 

     Confusion struck me. Why would Dumbledore let a boy, who was obviously suffering some sort of dark curse, attend Hogwarts without helping him?

 

     Draco followed my gaze towards the Gryffindor table and scowled “So, you’re one of Potter’s adoring fans, then.”

 

     I turned back in shock. “Who?”

 

     “Potter. Harry Potter? The ‘Boy-Who-Lived’, the baby who defeated the Dark Lord and has, since then, allowed his unearned fame go to his head.?” Malfoy drawled sarcastically, but I was too surprised to notice his obvious hatred for the dark-haired boy across the Hall.

 

     “ _ That’s  _ Harry Potter?” I said blatantly. Malfoy looked at me like I was playing some sort of trick

 

     “You didn’t know?” Doubt and confusion bled from his voice. I shook my head mutely. That boy was supposed to fight against Tom Marvolo Riddle? If this boy was only fourteen, how old was Tom? How long would I have to wait for them to actually come face-to-face so I could end this and get home? 

 

     Truth’s annoying message came to mind; “In 4 years, on May 2,1998, the world will either be saved from utter destruction, or the end will begin”

 

     4  _ years _ .

 

     Somehow, that little time frame had escaped my notice.

 

     Blazing red fury swept through my veins as I clenched my fists and struggled to breathe. The hulking figures on either side of my--Crabbe and Goyle?--must have noticed my agitation because they shifted nervously on the bench. My teeth ground together as I took several, deep, calming breaths, barely noticing how Malfoy and his crew eyed me warily. After several long moments, I had finally calmed down enough for Malfoy to speak. “So, you don’t like Potter, then?” a small glimmer of hope glinted in his grey eyes. I scoffed.

 

     “I have no problem with Potter.” I said viscously, crushing Malfoy’s hope with the heel of my figurative boot. “It’s what he reminds me of that...irks..me.” the words tasted sour on my tongue. I glared fiercely at my golden plate--it had been cleared when the puddings appeared--and stayed quiet, adding to the awkward silence that permeated the air around me.

 

     Well, I thought morosely. 

 

     So much for staying inconspicuous.


	12. The Eccentricity of Wizards--Dumbledore's a Slytherin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do you guys know anyone who plays the Kazoo?
> 
> Why was the Kazoo even created?
> 
> Who created it? Why does it exist? And why does NO ONE own a Kazoo?
> 
> All I own are singing Tesla coils.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer**  
> I don't own Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, Fullmetal Alchemist, or really any series of any kind. If I did own these beautiful series, I'd be rich.  
> Or at least, I wouldn't be broke.

     The ride up to the castle had been wet and muddy, and Harry was currently enjoying the warm glow that came with a good meal, surrounded by good friends. There was that odd thing with the first-year’s sorting, but Harry barely noticed that, occupied as he was with Ron and his overwhelming hunger. Now the feast had ended--though Hermione had refused to touch her food after learning it was made by House Elves--and Harry was sitting slouched in his seat, watching Ron try to entice Hermione with various desserts.

 

     "Treacle tart, Hermione!" said Ron, deliberately wafting its smell toward her. "Spotted dick, look! Chocolate gateau!" 

 

     But Hermione gave him a look so reminiscent of Professor McGonagall that he gave up. 

 

     When the puddings too had been demolished, and the last crumbs had faded off the plates, leaving them sparkling clean, Albus Dumbledore got to his feet again. The buzz of chatter filling the Hall ceased almost at once, so that only the howling wind and pounding rain could be heard.

 

     "So!" said Dumbledore, smiling around at them all. "Now that we are all fed and watered," ("Hmph!" said Hermione) "I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices.”

 

     "Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch's office, if anybody would like to check it."

 

     The corners of Dumbledore's mouth twitched. He continued, "As ever, I would like to remind you all that the forest on the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year.

 

     "It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year." 

 

     "What?" Harry gasped. He looked around at Fred and George, his fellow members of the Quidditch team. They were mouthing soundlessly at Dumbledore, apparently too appalled to speak. Dumbledore went on, "This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy - but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts -" 

 

     But at that moment, there was a deafening rumble of thunder and the doors of the Great Hall banged open. 

 

      A man stood in the doorway, leaning upon a long staff, shrouded in a black traveling cloak. Every head in the Great Hall swiveled toward the stranger, suddenly brightly illuminated by a fork of lightning that flashed across the ceiling. He lowered his hood, shook out a long mane of grizzled, dark gray hair, then began to walk up toward the teachers' table. 

 

     A dull clunk echoed through the Hall on his every other step. He reached the end of the top table, turned right, and limped heavily toward Dumbledore. Another flash of lightning crossed the ceiling. Hermione gasped. 

 

     The lightning had thrown the man's face into sharp relief, and it was a face unlike any Harry had ever seen. It looked as though it had been carved out of weathered wood by someone who had only the vaguest idea of what human faces are supposed to look like, and was none too skilled with a chisel. Every inch of skin seemed to be scarred. The mouth looked like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk of the nose was missing. But it was the man's eyes that made him frightening. 

 

     One of them was small, dark, and beady. The other was large, round as a coin, and a vivid, electric blue. The blue eye was moving ceaselessly, without blinking, and was rolling up, down, and from side to side, quite independently of the normal eye - and then it rolled right over, pointing into the back of the man's head, so that all they could see was whiteness. 

 

The stranger reached Dumbledore. He stretched out a hand that was as badly scarred as his face, and Dumbledore shook it, muttering words Harry couldn't hear. He seemed to be making some inquiry of the stranger, who shook his head unsmilingly and replied in an undertone. Dumbledore nodded and gestured the man to the empty seat on his right-hand side. 

 

     The stranger sat down, shook his mane of dark gray hair out of his face, pulled a plate of sausages toward him, raised it to what was left of his nose, and sniffed it. He then took a small knife out of his pocket, speared a sausage on the end of it, and began to eat. His normal eye was fixed upon the sausages, but the blue eye was still darting restlessly around in its socket, taking in the Hall and the students. 

 

     "May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" said Dumbledore brightly into the silence. "Professor Moody." 

 

     It was usual for new staff members to be greeted with applause, but none of the staff or students chapped except Dumbledore and Hagrid, who both put their hands together and applauded, but the sound echoed dismally into the silence, and they stopped fairly quickly. Everyone else seemed too transfixed by Moody's bizarre appearance to do more than stare at him. 

 

     "Moody?" Harry muttered to Ron. "Mad-Eye Moody? The one your dad went to help this morning?" 

 

     "Must be," said Ron in a low, awed voice. 

 

     "What happened to him?" Hermione whispered. "What happened to his face?" 

 

     "Dunno," Ron whispered back, watching Moody with fascination. 

 

     Moody seemed totally indifferent to his less-than-warm welcome. Ignoring the jug of pumpkin juice in front of him, he reached again into his traveling cloak, pulled out a hip flask, and took a long draught from it. As he lifted his arm to drink, his cloak was pulled a few inches from the ground, and Harry saw, below the table, several inches of carved wooden leg, ending in a clawed foot. 

 

     Dumbledore cleared his throat. 

 

     "As I was saying," he said, smiling at the sea of students before him, all of whom were still gazing transfixed at Mad-Eye Moody, "we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year." 

 

     "You're JOKING!" said Fred Weasley loudly. 

 

     The tension that had filled the Hall ever since Moody's arrival suddenly broke. Nearly everyone laughed, and Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively. 

 

     "I am not joking, Mr. Weasley," he said, "though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar.” 

 

     Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly. 

 

     "Er - but maybe this is not the time.. . no. . ." said Dumbledore, "where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament. . . well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely.” 

 

     "The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities - until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued." 

 

      "Death toll?" Hermione whispered, looking alarmed. But her anxiety did not seem to be shared by the majority of students in the Hall; many of them were whispering excitedly to one another, and Harry himself was far more interested in hearing about the tournament than in worrying about deaths that had happened hundreds of years ago. 

 

     "There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament," Dumbledore continued, "none of which has been very successful. However, our own departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt. We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that this time, no champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger.” 

 

     "The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money." 

 

     "I'm going for it!" Fred Weasley hissed down the table, his face lit with enthusiasm at the prospect of such glory and riches. He was not the only person who seemed to be visualizing himself as the Hogwarts champion. At every House table, Harry could see people either gazing raptly at Dumbledore, or else whispering fervently to their neighbors. But then Dumbledore spoke again, and the Hall quieted once more. 

 

      "Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts," he said, "the heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age - that is to say, seventeen years or older - will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration. This" -- Dumbledore raised his voice slightly, for several people had made noises of outrage at these words, and the Weasley twins were suddenly looking furious - "is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hog-warts champion." His light blue eyes twinkled as they flickered over Fred's and George's mutinous faces. "I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen.” 

 

     "The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of this year. I know that you will all extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected. And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!" 

 

     Dumbledore sat down again and turned to talk to Mad-Eye Moody. There was a great scraping and banging as all the students got to their feet and swarmed toward the double doors into the entrance hall.

\---------

 

     I sat in shocked silence. “The  _ Triwizard Tournament? _ ” I gasped out in shock, oblivious to the students who were getting up from the Slytherin table to join their peers in the mass exodus outside the great Hall. 

 

     Malfoy looked out me strangely. “Don’t you know what that is?” He asked, a clear strain of superiority colouring his voice.

 

      “I know what it is.” I whispered, shutting my eyes and bringing my hand to my face. 

 

     This was all happening too quickly. Harry Potter, Hogwarts, the Triwizard Tournament--was that why Truth had finally sent me here? Was I four years early so I could make sure Harry Potter  _ survived _ to meet Thomas Riddle face-to-face in their last duel to the death? And what was Albus thinking, opening a deadly tournament when he had a prophecy child to protect? For surely he knew about Harry Potter’s prophesied fate--why else would he leave a dark curse hanging around the boy? If bloody Truth had seen fit to send me to Hogwarts  _ now _ , then I was absolutely certain--something was going to happen to Harry James Potter, and I had to find a way to keep him alive. And all this while I was combing Hogwarts’ library, trying to bypass Truth and find my own way home.

 

     But Harry Potter wasn’t seventeen. There was no way he could enter the Triwizard Tournament, I thought to myself, a little hysterically. 

 

     At this point, Malfoy and his goons had given up getting any more answers from me and were walking away with the rest of the students, talking to each other and sometimes shooting me strange looks. I barely noticed them.

 

     I calmed down again, reassured by the age limit the British Wizarding Ministry had put on the Triwizard Tournament. No, the threat must be coming from somewhere else. I just had to find out where.

 

     My inner monologuing finally over, I glanced around the Hall to see the last few stragglers making their way towards the great double doors that led to the corridor outside. I got up to follow, jumping when I heard a familiar voice call out my name.

 

     “Alicia,” and grandfatherly voice sounded behind me, sending shivers up my spine as I reluctantly turned around.

 

     “Albus,” I acknowledged. “I suppose you are satisfied by your little game?” I sounded the words out bitterly.

 

     He chuckled in response. “I hope you can forgive an old man for indulging himself.” 

 

     I relaxed and growled playfully. “Of course.” I smirked. “What’s a little fun between friends?”

 

     Albus laughed outright at that. “Shall we head to my office, then? Unless you would prefer to sleep here, in the Great Hall.” His eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles.

 

     “Of course not.” I smiled “Though I daresay a night inside of the Great Hall would be better than sleeping outside in the rain.” I glanced up at the ceiling. I had been surprised by the vicious lightning that had streaked the sky when Mr. Moody arrived, and the ceiling had not stopped its relentless downpour all evening. 

 

     “Indeed. If you’ll follow me, then?” With a swish of brightly coloured robes, Dumbledore stepped out of the Great Hall, as I followed closely at his heels. 

\---------

      We made our way through the torchlit corridors, up several staircases--I thought I saw one move--and bypassing plenty of moving paintings and tapestries. Magic permeated the flagstone beneath our feet and the stone walls. I could feel it flowing through the air, wrapping around me as if welcomed me as a new resident. Occasionally, I would spot glowing runes etched into the stone worked walls--likely cornerstones for the many wards that protected Hogwarts.

 

     The halls were eerily silent as we walked, with the occasional ghost passing by as we made our way up seven different flights of stairs until we finally reached an ugly stone gargoyle, set in an alcove against a curved wall. Albus stopped and winked at me before speaking

 

      “Macarons.”

 

      I stared blankly back.

 

      Then, the stone gargoyle grinded to the side of the alcove, revealing a twisted staircase that reached up towards a foreboding darkness. My eyebrow twitched. With an annoyingly casual wave of his hand, Albus lit the torches along the staircase and stepped into the passageway. I followed--somewhat reluctantly--and stepped past the stone threshold, hearing the gargoyle grind back into place behind me. The short journey to Dumbledore’s office was spent in silence as I contemplated the durability of the aged stonework that made up Hogwarts. There were more glowing runes running along the walls of the staircase passageway than the other corridors I had seen--maybe a side effect of all the wards that must be guarding the Headmaster’s office, cumulating as the years passed.

 

     Albus came to a sudden stop and I peered over his shoulder (when did he get so bloody tall?) to see an aged wooden door. He gave a light push with the palm of his hand, and the door gave way to the what I could only assume was his office. It was a large and beautiful circular room, full of funny little noises. A number of curious silver instruments stood on spindle-legged tables, whirring and emitting little puffs of smoke. A vast collection of books, one that had always sparked my envy, lined the office walls, flanking a collection of moving portraits. An overburdened desk, covered with scrolls and parchment stood to one side of the room, joined by a dainty metal bird stand. A glittering mirror-cabinet to the opposite side of the room held Dumbledore’s vast collection of memories--not all of the good, but too many of them bad. Albus made his way across the rug-covered flagstone floor--I remembered gifting him that rug from when I was in Peru, and that other one was from Albania…--sitting at his cluttered desk and somehow finding enough room too lean forward on his elbows and lace his fingers together. 

 

     Wizards really could do impossible things.

 

      I raised a singular eyebrow and he smiled back good-naturedly as he realized my predicament. Unlacing his fingers, he gave a wave of his wand, conjuring an all-too comfortable-looking armchair if front of his desk. I didn’t wait for his invitation to sit, crossing the distance quickly and slouching as I sunk into the plush cushions. I enjoyed the next few moments of precious silence. 

 

     Finally, I decided that if I stayed silent any longer, I would fall asleep. “So,” I began, “I’m at Hogwarts.”

 

     Albus chuckled. “I suspect you came with quite a bit of reluctance?” It wasn’t really a question; my  _ reluctance _ was plain to anyone who cared enough to look.

 

      “Indeed.” I said dryly before brightening. “Though now that I’m here, I plan to have a good, long look at your precious library. Most of the books are probably outdated, but  they’ll give me some semblance of a starting point. It’s been too long since I’ve dabbled with magic--I really need to reacquaint myself with magical theory if I want to make any significant progress.

 

     Dumbledore chuckled at the avid look in my eyes. “I have always admired your dedication to research. Though, I was hoping to ask for your help in a particular matter while you remain at Hogwarts.” At this, Albus’ eyes took on their typical, cunning gleam. Sometimes I suspected the old Headmaster was something of a Slytherin at heart, with how manipulative he could be.

 

      But of course, the Headmaster wouldn’t be letting me stay at his school for free. I had asked for a favor. Now he was asking for payment. I sighed wearily. “Is this about the Potter boy?”

 

      Albus’ eyes widened in slight shock. “I wasn’t aware you had kept up with the events of the wizarding world since you so abruptly...left.” More like ran away. I ran a tired finger through my hair, undoing the messy ponytail and letting it shake free. 

 

     I had learned about Potter from Truth, but I couldn’t very well tell Albus that. “I asked some of the children about the boy. Albus, surely you’ve seen the dark curse that haunts him? Why in the world are you doing nothing to help him?” brows were furrowed deeply by the time I finished talking. 

 

     Now it was Dumbledore’s turn to sigh. “There is nothing I can do to help the boy. His Fate is now driven by a Prophecy; it is out of my hands.”

 

      I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from yelling, taking a moment to seriously consider my words before I spat them out. “So. What do you expect me to do if you can do  nothing?”

 

      He sighed again--did he normally sigh this much?--and took off his half-moon spectacles, choosing to rub his face tiredly. “I only wish for you to watch over the boy. There are forces I cannot see, pulling Harry’s Fate in many different directions. He needs a Mentor,but he also needs a Guardian. I cannot fill both roles.”

 

     “So you want me to be his Guardian?”

 

     “I want what’s best for Harry.” My mouth quirked to the side at that particular comment, but refrained from saying anything. “You have experience beyond that of any normal witch or wizard; and I know your good nature will urge you to help the boy.” 

 

      Yeah, my good nature, and the fact that Potter was currently my only ticket home. “Fine.”

 

     Albus looked surprised. “I’m sorry?”

 

       “I said fine. I’ll do it. Be the Guardian, or whatever. Keep the boy from sticking his nose too deep in other people’s business. And I’m guessing this is a long-term thing? I’ll be stuck with Potter for a few years at least. But I want full access to the Hogwarts library  _ and  _ your private collection.” I stared at him for a moment. “Also, chess matches at least every other weekend. Heaven knows I’ll need a break from all the teenage drabble I’ll be forced to endure.” my smirk gave away my compliant attitude. Albus’ plan went along with my goals to get home, so who was I to refuse him? This was all extraordinarily convenient.

 

     Almost  _ too  _ convenient.

 

      But if a certain self-absorbed deity was finally making things easier for me, who was I to complain?

 

     Albus smilled--an honest smile, not that kind, grandfatherly smile he’d give to someone he was humoring. “I must admit, I thought you’d be more difficult to convince.”

 

     “Na. You were totally right about my ‘good nature’ and stuff. Though...there is still one small matter to settle.”

 

     Albus looked at me confusedly and I let out the Cheshire grin I had been holding back. “I want revenge for your little game, Albus. You didn’t tell me how to get on Platform 9 ¾, who to talk to--it looks like you even left your staff mostly in the dark about my arrival. And all to see me stumbling blindly? Tut tut, Albus.” My eyes took on a bit of a glare, and then softened. “I thought you were above such petty manipulation.” the man eyed me warily, like I was a swaying serpent, ready to strike.

 

     I let my face and body relax. This chair was absurdly comfortable--much better than those Spartan compartment seats on the Hogwarts Express. Albus peered at me awkwardly as I tried not to doze off.

 

       “Perhaps I could suggest due compensation?”

 

     My eyes snapped open at that. I had something I could hold over Albus...and I could either keep holding it over him, or I could accept recompense now and get the whole issue over and done with.

 

     I knew which one he would prefer. And I didn’t need to live in the same castle as a suspicious Dumbledore.

 

     “What do you suggest?” I asked, keeping my tone light and airy.

 

     “Well, first we could see about getting you a bed. And a room, of course. Perhaps I could entice you with the freedom to use the Hogwarts pensieve?”

 

      That was a dangerous offer. I had lived so long that eventually my memories began to blur together--I attempted to keep a steady collection of diaries, but written words could only describe so much. And I really did need a bed.

 

     “Accepted. In return, I will forgive you for your petty revenge, though I reserve the right to pursue retribution if you try to manipulate me again. I’m not a part of your games, Albus. You may mean well, but there are still things about me that you don’t know.” Silence reigned over the room as Albus looked me in the eyes. He attempted to brush the surface of my mind, to see what I was truly thinking about, but I brushed aside his probing tendrils with my impenetrable mental shields.

 

     I smiled and took a breath before continuing. “So. where am I supposed to sleep?”

 

     Albus picked on my not-so-subtle hint and stopped probing my mind, blinking once to shut off our mental connection. “Ah. Mathilde.” he waved his hand once, and a singular Hogwarts house elf appeared. He addressed the house elf--Mathilde--, saying, “Please show Ms. Peverell to her quarters in the dungeons. That lovely room near the painting of Siegfried the Scarred should do.

 

     “Yes, Misser! Mathilde will be showing Missy where to go!” The elf looked at me expectantly--how could anyone say no to those adorable eyes?--and I begrudgingly relinquished my comfortable spot in the pluch, conjured armchair, which disappeared as soon as I got up. 

 

     I glanced at Dumbledore one more time, taking in his world-wearied eyes and wrinkled skin. He used to be so young, boisterous and brimming with energy and power, full of child-like ideals. But who knew how much longer his magic could sustain him? 

 

     Wizards lived so long because of the power that lived within them; but everything had it’s time, and Albus’ was drawing near.

 

     That was something I...didn’t want to think about.

 

     I might actually cry at his funeral.

 

 

      I turned and followed Mathilde out of the Headmaster’s office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are welcome, reviews are welcome, passive-aggressive attacks on my writing abilities are welcome...honestly, feedback of any kind would at least let me know what to fix with this mess of a story. Let me know this is being read by humans, not just cats who are playing with their owners' keyboards.
> 
> Thanks guys.


	13. Dungeons are Creepy--Mirrors are Rude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I wonder if living in a dungeon would be like living in my bedroom. 
> 
> I don't have any windows, I don't turn on my lights.   
> Some days I don't even go outside.  
> It's like my whole world is made up of my room.
> 
> Did I mention my walls are white?  
> Kinda like an asylum sort of white.
> 
> Huh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **DISCLAMER**  
> I do NOT own J. K. Rowling's books, or anything else under copyright protection (i.e. Fullmetal, Percy Jackson, Marvel). I my storyline, and I own Marrissa/Raven/Crow/Miss Peverell/Whatever-her-name-is-now.
> 
> That's it.
> 
> Now read. And comment, please. :D

     The dungeons weren’t as creepy as I had imagined.

 

     They  were  _ creepier _ .

 

      To be fair, if not for the lack of windows, I wouldn’t have any way to discern the dungeon corridors from any other part of the castle. Guess that just goes to show that medieval  architecture doesn’t make for a very homely home.

 

     And, of course, I didn’t miss the irony of Dumbledore having my room in the dungeons--though, being a ‘prisoner’ in Hogwarts wasn’t that bad a prospect. At least they had a library.

 

     After plenty of cajoling, Mathilde finally told me a bit about the Hogwarts house elves; apparently there were several families of elves that had pledged their services to Hogwarts over the years. Mathilde was from the 10th generation of her family--she had worked at Hogwarts all her life, just like her parents, and her parents’ parents, and her parents’ parents’ parents, and so on. It seemed strange to me that the elves had no desire to see the outside world, but they seemed content so I didn’t press the issue. 

 

     The torchlight flickered mutely against the stone castle walls, their yellow glow intermittently interrupted by glowing runes set in the stonework. Most of the moving pictures appeared to be asleep, but a few stared at me suspiciously as Mathilde and I passed. I was pretty sure that every picture in the castle would know of my existence before morning--that is, if they didn’t already. The house elf in front of my descended several flights of stairs, going deeper and deeper into the bowels of the castle before coming to a stop next to the portrait of a stern-faced man with wildly chopped hair. Several scars criss-crossed his face, the most prominent being a single, pinkish scar that ran from his left temple, across his right eye, and through his ear.

 

     Yes,  _ through  _ his ear. I was pretty sure he was missing most of his earlobe, but his wild hair covered his ears too well for me to be sure. 

 

     “Misser Siegfried, sir?” Mathilde squeaked nervously. Apparently, this man wasn’t only intimidating because of his looks. 

 

     He opened one eye lazily, glaring first at Mathilde, and then me.

 

     “Hmph.” his displeasure was made clear in that single syllable. “So, this is the Headmaster’s visitor?”

 

     “Yes misser. Headmaster was asking Mathilde to show Missy to her rooms!” the house elf blinked nervously and turned to me. “Miissy, this is Siegfried sir. He guards the entrance to Missy’s rooms!” I stared at the grumpy man.

 

     “Well?” he asked stonily. “Do you want to stay in thee corridor all night, or are you coming in?” at this, the section of wall that his portrait was hanging on turned into a door, which opened creakily. 

 

     That wasn’t creepy at all.

 

     I turned to Mathilde and smiled. “Thank you for leading me here.”

 

     “Of course, Missy!” the house elf trembled at the compliment, clasping her hands as her eyes watered. “Will Missy be eating breakfast in the Great Hall tomorrow?” she asked adoringly.

 

     “Um…” as fun as that might be, I didn’t want to deal with teenagers that early. “Is there some other way I could get breakfast?”

 

     “Of course!” Mathilde grinned happily. I tried not to flinch at the sudden show of teeth. “Mathilde will have someone bring breakfast to Missy!”

 

     “Oh. Thank you, then.” I turned and opened the creaky door the rest of the way, stepping over the threshold just in time to avoid the door slamming shut behind me. I scowled at the portrait’s rudeness, but quickly forgot about him as I spotted the wonderful four-poster bed that lay just beyond another open door. I didn’t bother looking at the rest of my room, quickly taking in the merrily crackling fireplace and sturdy, wooden desk in the main room before tumbling into my beautiful bed.

 

     No sleeping bag in the world could ever compare to the wonderful feeling of a real, actual bed.

 

     I wasn’t even aware when I fell asleep.

 

\---------

 

     The storm had blown itself out by the following morning, though the ceiling in the Great Hall was still gloomy; heavy clouds of pewter gray swirled overhead as Harry, Ron, and Hermione examined their new course schedules at breakfast. A few seats along, Fred, George, and Lee Jordan were discussing magical methods of aging themselves and bluffing their way into the Triwizard Tournament. 

 

     "Today's not bad.. . outside all morning," said Ron, who was running his finger down the Monday column of his schedule. "Herbology with the Hufflepuffs and Care of Magical Creatures... damn it, we're still with the Slytherins. . . ." 

 

     "Double Divination this afternoon," Harry groaned, looking down. Divination was his least favorite subject, apart from Potions. Professor Trelawney kept predicting Harry's death, which he found extremely annoying. 

 

     "You should have given it up like me, shouldn't you?" said Hermione briskly, buttering herself some toast. "Then you'd be doing something sensible like Arithmancy." 

 

     "You're eating again, I notice," said Ron, watching Hermione adding liberal amounts of jam to her toast too. 

 

     "I've decided there are better ways of making a stand about elf rights," said Hermione haughtily. 

 

      "Yeah. . . and you were hungry," said Ron, grinning. 

 

     There was a sudden rustling noise above them, and a hundred owls came soaring through the open windows carrying the morning mail. Instinctively, Harry looked up, but there was no sign of white among the mass of brown and gray. The owls circled the tables, looking for the people to whom their letters and packages were addressed. A large tawny owl soared down to Neville Longbottom and deposited a parcel into his lap - Neville almost always forgot to pack something. On the other side of the Hall Draco Malfoy's eagle owl had landed on his shoulder, carrying what looked like his usual supply of sweets and cakes from home. Trying to ignore the sinking feeling of disappointment in his stomach, Harry returned to his porridge. Was it possible that something had happened to Hedwig, and that Sirius hadn't even got his letter? 

 

     His preoccupation lasted all the way across the sodden vegetable patch until they arrived in greenhouse three, but here he was distracted by Professor Sprout showing the class the ugliest plants Harry had ever seen. Indeed, they looked less like plants than thick, black, giant slugs, protruding vertically out of the soil. Each was squirming slightly and had a number of large, shiny swellings upon it, which appeared to be full of liquid. 

 

     "Bubotubers," Professor Sprout told them briskly. "They need squeezing. You will collect the pus -" 

 

     "The what?" said Seamus Finnigan, sounding revolted. 

 

     "Pus, Finnigan, pus," said Professor Sprout, "and it's extremely valuable, so don't waste it. You will collect the pus, I say, in these bottles. Wear your dragon-hide gloves; it can do funny things to the skin when undiluted, bubotuber pus." 

 

     Squeezing the bubotubers was disgusting, but oddly satisfying. As each swelling was popped, a large amount of thick yellowish-green liquid burst forth, which smelled strongly of petrol. They caught it in the bottles as Professor Sprout had indicated, and by the end of the lesson had collected several pints. 

 

     "This'll keep Madam Pomfrey happy," said Professor Sprout, stoppering the last bottle with a cork. "An excellent remedy for the more stubborn forms of acne, bubotuber pus. Should stop students resorting to desperate measures to rid themselves of pimples." 

 

     "Like poor Eloise Midgen," said Hannah Abbott, a Hufflepuff, in a hushed voice. "She tried to curse hers off." 

 

     "Silly girl," said Professor Sprout, shaking her head. "But Madam Pomfrey fixed her nose back on in the end." 

 

\---------

 

     When I finally woke up, I had no idea what time of day it was--living in the dungeons wasn’t exactly conducive towards having windows. Dazedly I looked around, blinking the sleep from my eyes. For the first time in a while, I couldn’t remember what I had dreamed about. I wasn’t covered in a cold sweat and the bed was mildly put-together, which meant I hadn’t thrashed around in my sleep. Maybe the answer to my nightmares was simply sleeping in an actual bed, I thought distractedly. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted my duffle bag and backpack sitting next to the wardrobe in my modest bedroom.

 

     Deciding I had the time, I started to unpack my things. A few articles of clothing went into the wardrobe, along with my extra pair of shoes and the trenchcoat that I had worn to bed. Spotting another open door, which led into a room covered in marble, I gathered a change of clothes (consisting of another transfigured shirt and a pair of slacks) and headed into my bedroom’s adjoining washroom.

 

     Everything was made of marble.

 

     The counter, the ground, the walls--even the bathtub, which had been laid in the ground like a miniature swimming pool. Various knobs and dials stood on the edge of the pool, each with a differently covered jewel set into its handle. A small pile of clean white towels sat on the corner of the marble counter--the only other feature of the room was a large mirror, framed elegantly twisted silver.

 

     I quickly undressed and turned some of the more harmless-looking taps. After a few tries I was finally able to find the tap that controlled the water (the largest knob, with a delicately inlaid opalescent gem) and settled in for the most luxurious bath I’d had in centuries. Bubbles from a few of the taps I’d tried earlier floated around the room, shining their various colors--small pink ones that flitted about like faeries, lazy purple ones that were as large as footballs, and brilliantly iridescent green ones that hung high in the air, as though suspended by strings.

 

     I relaxed my tense body and stretched out, running my hands over a few of the scars on my body. If I remembered correctly, the portrait that was guarding my room was dubbed “Siegfried the Scarred”. Sometimes, I wondered how much Albus really knew about me. I sat up in the water, letting my wings manifest themselves on my back, sweeping them through the water. A sudden gasp made me flash around.

 

     I strained my eyes but couldn’t see anyone. “Who’s there?” I called angrily.

 

     Silence reigned for a few moments until a pretentiously female voice echoed through the room. “Well, it’s only me, dearie. And I must say, you certainly know how to surprise people.”

 

     My eyes glanced over the room but I still couldn’t see anyone. “Show yourself!”

 

     “I’m right here, dearie.” I looked towards the right, past the shut door and towards the door... “That’s it, almost there”...and my eyes came to rest on the large mirror, which held a perfect reflection of the entire room--except for one thing.

 

     “You’re a mirror.” I stated blandly, staring at the reflection that wasn’t quite mine. It--I?--smiled back at me.

 

     “Mirrors are people, too.” It said huffily, before smirking and stretching its own wings. “Though I have to admit, I don’t know what kind of person you are. I’ve only ever seen house elves and humans in my bathroom, and you don’t appear to fall into either category.” It curved my--it’s?--wings around and gently stroked the feathers, a look of open curiosity on its face.

 

     I chose not to contemplate the implications of  _ that  _ particular statement, saying, “I’m a human, too.” I paused. “...I think.” I wasn’t really sure if I was ever ‘human’ by this world’s standards, since I had come from the other side of Truth’s Gate. And the fact that I had landed in this dimension with wings suggested my biology had been somehow altered by the crossing. I finished scrubbing my body quickly and awkwardly, trying to ignore my audience--which was still exploring its novel feathered appendages--and got out of the bathtub/pool, hurriedly grabbing a towel to cover myself up. Why was everything in this damned castle sentient? I shook my wet hair out of my face before glaring at the Mirror. My reflection watched me as it stood lazily, making to move to cover itself like I had. 

 

     “You must be a very unique human.” It concluded superiorly. “It’s really a shame you have so many scars.” I stiffened; its voice turned pretentious, if a bit regretful. “You could’ve been pretty otherwise.” 

 

     I narrowed my eyes in blind anger. “Be careful of what you say,” I snarled. “or I might decide to smash you.” I gritted my teeth and grabbed my clothes before storming out of the room and slamming the door shut behind me. 

 

     My reflection just watched me the whole way.

 

     Stupid Castle. Stupid Mirrors. Maybe I could find a way to cover the Mirror’s surface; if it couldn’t see me, it shouldn’t be able to manifest my reflection and speak to me--I think. I dressed as I thought of increasingly violent ways to deal with the newest intruder on my privacy, pulling me wet hair back into a tangled ponytail. My bare feet padded against my carpeted bedroom floor as I stepped into the main room of my new quarters, which I had caught a glimpse of before collapsing into my bed yesterday evening. 

 

     Or was it early this morning? I really needed to find some way to tell time.

 

     The fire was still crackled merrily in the fireplace--in front of it sat two comfortable-looking armchairs, and to the side sat a beautifully sturdy desk, along with an empty  bookshelf. What caught my eye, though, was the small tray that sat on the wooden desk. A plate piled high with eggs, sausages, and toast sat next to a still-steaming cup of tea. 

     Mathilde, the house elf from yesterday, must have come in while I was in the washroom and realized that I was awake. I smiled at her kindness before noticing the note peeking out from under the platter. Deciding to ignore the note for now--it could wait until I had breakfast--I happily dug into the eggs and sausages. 

 

     Each bite of food was heavenly as I washed my bad mood down with the wonderfully warm chamomile tea. I technically didn’t _have_ to eat--I had determined that a while ago--but starving myself still left me weak and depressed. It probably had something to do with Equivalent Exchange; I wouldn’t die if I didn’t provide nutrients for my body, but I also wouldn’t have any excess energy. At one point it had gotten so bad I hadn’t been able to move.

 

     I also suspected that not eating left me agitated and irritable, though I only had my suspicions about that. That part may have just been my personality, but I liked to keep an open mind. Just like eating wasn’t  _ technically  _ necessary for me to be alive, neither was  _ happiness _ . And eating food  _ definitely  _ made me happy. 

 

     In short, food was just too good to give up.

 

     The annoying note peeking out from under the tray kept bugging me, and I found myself contemplating who could have sent it. Most likely Dumbledore...he always had something to say. It might also be a curious staff member, or someone who recognized me (though that last situation was extremely unlikely). My curiosity officially piqued, I abandoned what was left of my breakfast in favor of the note, which I pulled from its hiding spot. I carefully unfolded the parchment, feeling my own curiosity burn as I forced myself to wait in suspense.

 

_      Dear Miss Peverell, _

 

     --I groaned aloud; that was Dumbledore’s loopy handwriting. Muttering under my breath about getting my hopes up, I took not of the peculiarly formal form of address;people were only formal and polite if they wanted something from you. I continued reading, my curiosity dying a painful death.--

 

_      It was come to my attention that you have asked to take breakfast in your rooms. While this is entirely acceptable, I would suggest taking meals in the Great Hall from now on. While delivering meals is hardly an inconvenience to the house elves, it seems as though living in self-induced seclusion will hardly enable you to get to know certain members of Hogwarts’ student population. A seat is always open at the Head table, if you would like it. _

 

_      Sincerely, _

 

_      Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore _

 

     I was so engrossed in the contents of the letter that I nearly missed the post-script that was written beneath Dumbledore’s elegant signature.

 

_      PS: I quite enjoy Chocolate Gateau on a rainy day. _

 

     My mind went blank as I struggled to contemplate the message in the letter. It was convenient that the Headmaster gave me that password to his tower. I had half a mind to go up there right now and yell his ear off. It appeared Dumbledore wanted Mr. Potter’s  _ Guardian  _ to fully experience Hogwarts school life. First I would be asked (more like  _ politely ordered _ ) to join in at mealtimes--next thing you know, Dumbledore’ll be asking me to join in on classes and school events. 

 

     Forcing my tumultuous thoughts into some semblance of order, I crumpled the note and threw it vindictively into the crackling fireplace. The fire ate the parchment merrily and  I smiled grimly before balefully turning my attention to the half-eaten breakfast in front of me. I gripped my forgotten utensils, deciding that food was more important that satisfying my righteous anger, and attacked my food without taking another moment to think about a certain manipulative old coot.

 

     After polishing off the remaining food as quickly as I could and setting the dishes back on the tray as gently as I could, I decided to turn my attention to my original goal; using Hogwarts’ massive library. Grabbing my now-dry overcoat and slipping on a comfortable pair of shoes, I resolved to take the opportunity to explore the castle and figure out where the Library even _ was _ .

 

     The dungeons were eerily dark as I stepped out the door--only every other torch was lit, and either end of the corridor would have appeared as a solid mass of darkness to the average human eye. Runes glowed intermittently along the walls, shining along the corridor as far as I could see, continuing into the black abysses with shining blue light. Judging from the lack of light, Albus must’ve put me in a less-popular portion of the castle dungeons.

 

     The portrait on the other side of the door grumbled “Or you going to stand there all day? Are you staying in or going out?” the voice demanded. I hurriedly stepped out of the doorway and let the door close behind me, wincing as it slammed shut. I had forgotten about Siegfried the Scarred less-than-pleasant personality. Glancing back at the portrait, which harrumphed loudly, I chose to follow the corridor I walked down last night.

 

     I made my way through the twisting halls, trying to retrace the way Mathilde had brought me. I must’ve done something right because the corridors were starting to look brighter and brighter. After walking for a while, trying to find my way back up to the main floor of the castle, I turned the corner to find a group of students in black robes standing outside of an open classroom door.

 

     “Excuse me,” I said, startling many of the students, “Can any of you show me how to get out of the dungeons?”

 

     They stared at me blankly until one of the boys with yellow and black lining and a badge on his robes walked up to me. “I think I can help you out.” he smiled. “Follow me.”

 

     And so I did.


	14. Teenagers are Annoying--Books are Holy

 

A booming bell echoed from the castle across the wet grounds, signaling the end of the lesson, and the class separated; the Hufflepuffs climbing the stone steps for Transfiguration, and the Gryffindors heading in the other direction, down the sloping lawn toward Hagrid's small wooden cabin, which stood on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. 

Hagrid was standing outside his hut, one hand on the collar of his enormous black boarhound, Fang. There were several open wooden crates on the ground at his feet, and Fang was whimpering and straining at his collar, apparently keen to investigate the contents more closely. As they drew nearer, an odd rattling noise reached their ears, punctuated by what sounded like minor explosions. 

"Mornin'!" Hagrid said, grinning at Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "Be'er wait fer the Slytherins, they won' want ter miss this - Blast-Ended Skrewts!" 

"Come again?" said Ron. 

Hagrid pointed down into the crates. 

"Eurgh!" squealed Lavender Brown, jumping backward. "Eurgh" just about summed up the Blast-Ended Skrewts in Harry's opinion. They looked like deformed, shell-less lobsters, horribly pale and slimy-looking, with legs sticking out in very odd places and no visible heads. There were about a hundred of them in each crate, each about six inches long, crawling over one another, bumping blindly into the sides of the boxes. They were giving off a very powerful smell of rotting fish. Every now and then, sparks would fly out of the end of a skrewt, and with a small phut, it would be propelled forward several inches. 

"On'y jus' hatched," said Hagrid proudly, "so yeh'll be able ter raise 'em yerselves! Thought we'd make a bit of a project of it!" 

"And why would we want to raise them?" said a cold voice. 

The Slytherins had arrived. The speaker was Draco Malfoy. Crabbe and Goyle were chuckling appreciatively at his words. 

Hagrid looked stumped at the question. 

"I mean, what do they do?" asked Malfoy. "What is the point of them?" 

Hagrid opened his mouth, apparently thinking hard; there was a few seconds' pause, then he said roughly, "Tha's next lesson, Malfoy. Yer jus' feedin' 'em today. Now, yeh'll wan' ter try 'em on a few diff'rent things - I've never had 'em before, not sure what they'll go fer - I got ant eggs an' frog livers an' a bit o' grass snake - just try 'em out with a bit of each." 

"First pus and now this," muttered Seamus. 

Nothing but deep affection for Hagrid could have made Harry, Ron, and Hermione pick up squelchy handfuls of frog liver and lower them into the crates to tempt the Blast-Ended Skrewts. Harry couldn't suppress the suspicion that the whole thing was entirely pointless, because the skrewts didn't seem to have mouths. 

"Ouch!" yelled Dean Thomas after about ten minutes. "It got me." 

Hagrid hurried over to him, looking anxious. 

"Its end exploded!" said Dean angrily, showing Hagrid a burn on his hand. 

"Ah, yeah, that can happen when they blast off," said Hagrid, nodding. 

"Eurgh!" said Lavender Brown again. "Eurgh, Hagrid, what's that pointy thing on it?" 

"Ah, some of 'em have got stings," said Hagrid enthusiastically (Lavender quickly withdrew her hand from the box). "I reckon they're the males. . . . The females've got sorta sucker things on their bellies. . . . I think they might be ter suck blood." 

"Well, I can certainly see why we're trying to keep them alive," said Malfoy sarcastically. "Who wouldn't want pets that can burn, sting, and bite all at once?" 

"Just because they're not very pretty, it doesn't mean they're not useful," Hermione snapped. "Dragon blood's amazingly magical, but you wouldn't want a dragon for a pet, would you?" 

Harry and Ron grinned at Hagrid, who gave them a furtive smile from behind his bushy beard. Hagrid would have liked nothing better than a pet dragon, as Harry, Ron, and Hermione knew only too well - he had owned one for a brief period during their first year, a vicious Norwegian Ridgeback by the name of Norbert. Hagrid simply loved monstrous creatures, the more lethal, the better. 

"Well, at least the skrewts are small," said Ron as they made their way back up to the castle for lunch an hour later.

"They are now," said Hermione in an exasperated voice, "but once Hagrid's found out what they eat, I expect they'll be six feet long." 

"Well, that won't matter if they turn out to cure seasickness or something, will it?" said Ron, grinning slyly at her. 

"You know perfectly well I only said that to shut Malfoy up," said Hermione. "As a matter of fact I think he's right. The best thing to do would be to stamp on the lot of them before they start attacking us all." 

Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat down at the Gryffindor table and helped themselves to lamb chops and potatoes. Hermione began to eat so fast that Harry and Ron stared at her. 

"Er - is this the new stand on elf rights?" said Ron. "You're going to make yourself puke instead?" 

"No," said Hermione, with as much dignity as she could muster with her mouth bulging with sprouts. "I just want to get to the library." 

"What?" said Ron in disbelief. "Hermione - it's the first day back! We haven't even got homework yet!" 

Hermione shrugged and continued to shovel down her food as though she had not eaten for days. Then she leapt to her feet, said, "See you at dinner!" and departed at high speed. 

Harry and Ron stared at her retreating figure with shock before turning back to their food.

“She’s mental.”

Harry looked up at Ron, who had continued eating.

“Hermione?” Ron nodded affirmative. Hermione’s single minded determination wasn’t anything new--she was acting just about the same as she usually did around midterms. Harry just wasn’t sure how long she would pursue the elf thing. Ron seemed confident that Hermione would give up eventually, but Harry wasn’t so sure. 

He considered the mash and shepherd's pie in front of him, no longer hungry. Harry wasn’t really sure which stance to take on elf rights. Dobby had suffered at the hands of the Malfoy family--but despite his treatment, Dobby still wanted to serve. Maybe the desire to serve was so ingrained in the mysterious house elf culture that any wizard who butted in was just being...presumptuous?

A lull in the chatter that usually enveloped the Great Hall kept Harry from evaluating that last thought. Harry and Ron looked up together, searching for the source of the unusual silence, and spotted two figures standing at the entrance to the Great Hall. One of the figures appeared to be Cedric, who Harry remembered from the World Quidditch Cup, but the other was that strange figure who attended the feast.

Ron swallowed his food. “Isn’t that the new student? What’s her name? Elizabeth Percival?” he said, craning his neck to get a better look at the pair. 

“Dumbledore said she was a guest.” Harry said distractedly, noticing how all eyes were on newcomer. He winced in sympathy--he knew personally how annoying it was to be the center of attention--and turned back to his food, trying to ignore the curiosity that tugged at the back of his mind.

\---------

I was not happy.

The walk to the Great Hall served as a good excuse to learn about student life at Hogwarts. According to my guide, almost everyone took meals regularly in the Great Hall, but students remained segregated into their houses. Students took classes with their house, slept in house dormitories, ate with their houses--and, best of all, even  _ associating  _ with people of different houses was frowned upon intensely. 

The constant segregation made no sense to me, but who was I to criticize the great Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry? Perhaps the Triwizard tournament would help Hogwarts to band together.

Still, looking out at the whispering students around me, I couldn’t help but feel some detached concern--which quickly turned to annoyance as soon as I noticed what--or  _ who-- _ they were all staring at.

I glanced at my guide--whose name I learned was Cedric--and internally winced. He didn’t seem to notice the staring and murmurs, but it was the fact that he was ignoring something so blatant that showed me he was bothered.

That, and the tell-tale twitch in the corner of his eye.

After being undercover as a less-than-conspicuous teenager at Midtown for so long, the amount of attention was disorienting. Was it really necessary for all the children to  _ stare  _ so much? 

You’d think they’d never seen someone in an overcoat before. Which I knew wasn’t true, because Hagrid had a rather spectacular one. I struggled against the urge to glare at the children nearest to me, settling for staring straight ahead and trying to ignore the people around me.

While the students were whispering, the teachers at the Head Table stared at me curiously. I hadn’t paid attention to anyone other than Dumbledore and Lightning Man (was his name Moody?) yesterday. A quick once-over revealed a curious collection of characters. Professor McGonagall was looking directly at me, along with a hook-nosed man with stringy hair and black eyes. 

I paused for a moment on his eyes, the tingle of mental shields stinging my eyes for a moment. I blinked furiously, moving one to glance at a goblin-esque man of short stature,Hagrid, and a cheerful-looking woman, who was trying to strike up a conversation with Professor Moody.

A hand touched my shoulder and I jumped, glancing at Cedric, who was still beside me. He smiled kindly. 

“Would you like to sit with my housemates and I?” a group of teenagers at the table closest to us was waving kindly, the students around them looking on in curiosity. The black and yellow colors signified that they were al from Hufflepuff house, who were supposedly the most accepting group of students at Hogwarts.

I could do worse.

“Sure, if you wouldn’t mind.” I replied quietly. “I’m not that hungry, but it’d be nice to hear more about how Hogwarts works.” 

So far I knew about house elves, house segregation, and a bit about house stereotypes. What I DIDN’T know was the location of the library--and which teachers might be willing to lend a hand with my little project.

The teenagers shuffled around, scooting around until they had finally made enough room to fit Cedric and myself on the bench. The food on the table was presented elaborately--apparently, the Welcoming Feast wasn’t just a one-time thing. Now that I thought about it, these kids were pretty spoiled--House Elves did their chores and cooked them elaborate meals, while they were provided with a first-rate magical education. 

The Great Hall settled back into the mild roar of chatter that had existed before I had disturbed it. The Gryffindor table appeared to be the rowdiest, but Hufflepuff wasn’t far behind. Ravenclaw and Slytherin, on the other hand, were on the noticeably quieter side of the Great Hall.

“So,” I stared at the faces around me. “...what does being a Hufflepuff mean, exactly?”

One of the girls across the table spoke up. “Basically, we’re the friendly bunch. We accept just about anyone, but we can get really defensive of people we care about.”

“Why did you transfer to Hogwarts?” piped up a boy with straight black hair. He seemed nosy, his eyes were practically  _ screaming  _ with barely contained curiosity.

“Studying.” I said simply. Let the children think what they wanted to think. Eventually they would become accustomed to my presence in the school--or so I hoped.

“Well, yes, we’re all here to  _ study.  _ What we mean is, why aren’t you attending normal classes?” this time is was another girl, one who seemed to be friends with the black-haired boy.

“I don’t need to.” I started fidgeting, knotting my fingers and squeezing my hands together for reassurance.  ‘Children are naturally inquisitive.’ I reminded myself. ‘They’ll get bored eventually--they always do. Everyone always does.’ The accident with the mirror this morning had shaken me up, and while I had calmed down talking to Cedric, my guide, I was still brimming with a nervous energy that screamed for me to  _ get up, _ to  _ run,  _ to  _ punch  _ something, anything _ ,  _ to just  _ DO  _ something already. The children kept talking but I wasn’t paying attention, my eyes roving across the hall to distract myself from the rising energy I felt coursing through my veins. I was like a cup of water that was being overfilled, rivulets of power pouring down my sides. 

I clenched my fists to keep them from grabbing something when I noticed that Dumbledore was in his usual seat again. His twinkling blue eyes flashed with something--concern?--and he stared at me steadily. I glared back, engaging in a juvenile battle of wills, thinking ‘ _ This is all your fault, you old coot. You just HAD to get your way, didn’t you? Just like always.’ _

“Hey…” Cedric had grabben my shoulder and I jumped, immediately tearing my angry gaze from Albus’. “Actually,”” the boy continued,  carefully ignoring the tense set of my shoulders, “I don’t know your name. I know they said it yesterday, but for some reason I can’t remember what it was.” He laughed.

“Alicia.” I whispered. I sounded pathetic. “Alicia Peverell.” I said again, stronger this time. ‘My name is Alicia Peverell.’ I said, as if I were trying to convince myself.

“Ah!” one of the girls from earlier, who had been poking at the remains of her plate before, suddenly lit up in excitement. “You’re from the Peverell family, then!” I stared in confusion, along with about half of the group seated at Hufflepuff table.

“I thought the Peverell line was extinct.” a boy, blonde this time, stated, his eyes barely showing beneath his fringe.

“Extinct…?” I mumbled to myself. Of course, there had been no male heir to carry on the Peverell name. Thus, the Peverells were supposedly gone, their blood mixed in with just about every other pureblooded wizarding family.

My hand twitched again and I grabbed it with my other hand, fingers wrapping tightly around it, caging any unwanted impulses.

Cedric glanced at me and finally seemed to notice the game my hands were playing beneath the table. “Hey,” he interupted the group, which had continued to chatter away about exctinct wizarding families, “Why don’t i show you to the library like I promised? Lunch will be ending soon, so I should show you before I get to class.” He smiled at me and stood.

I followed him out of the Great Hall like some sick puppy, eyes flicking around the castle in unconcealed glee at the sheer  _ amount  _ of things there were to notice. I felt like my brain was going to explode. A moving portrait caught the corner of my eye and I let my gaze glaze over it, until I was distracted by a suit of armor that seemed to be  _ looking  _ at me, and then I examined the blue, glowing runes that coverd Hogwarts’ walls, some of which, in my muddled state, I recognized as the runes for  _ love, strength,  _ and  _ protection.  _

The curiously shifting staircases caught my eye next as I ambled after Cedric. I thought I had seen one move when I followed Albus up to the Headmaster’s office, but this was--

_ Bloody Hell. _

Moving staircases. Did  _ no-one  _ think that was a safety hazard?!

And how did they even move like that? Some of them appeared to be pivoting on invisible joint, while others held themself up in empty space. How was that even pissoble, if--

Magic. Nevermind.

We didn’t climb any of the stair cases though (thank  _ Truth _ ) and stayed on the first floor, making our way through a series of corridors smattered with a few secret passageways before  we stood in front of an open doorway.

Inside was the most magnificent room I had ever seen. Books lined shelves that stretched impossibly high, lined up in beautiful rows and columns. A few armchairs were hidden in carefully lit corners of the room, with work desks that were taken up by harried-looking students. Windows covered the walls, letting in beams of sunlight that hit the bookshelves  _ just right _ , giving the books that holy halo of light they were always meant to have.

I stared at the beautiful sight in satisfaction. Coming to Hogwarts  _ might  _ have been worth it after all. A bell rang to signal the start of afternoon classes, but I paid it no mind as I walked down the aisles and aisles of books, trying to figure out Hogwarts’ catalouging system. Cedric had left at some point to go to class and reunite with his friends. During my stay in the Leaky Cauldron I ventured out into ‘Muggle’ London and bought a forest worth of paper, along with a hefty amount of pens, both of which I kept stored in my magically expanded pouch. Once I figured out how the Library was sorted (subject,  _ then _ author,  _ then _ title) I searched the very back of the library. Sure enough, a single desk, enclosed by bookcases, sat in a dark corner. Better yet, it was surrounded by books about Divination, so I doubted anyone would be coming near me in the foreseeable future (heh--as if the future was  _ see- _ able). I carefully grabbed some tomes on magical theory and, as an afterthought, picked out some books on tracking and protection spells.

I didn’t leave the Library until dinner.


	15. Moody is Unhinged--Albus Messes With Things He Doesn't Understand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer's so boring. I can't find the motivation to do anything except sleep and listen to music all the time. At least my dreams are interesting. I mean, when else do I get to see cat-cities crash into flying trains?

 "Miserable old bat," said Ron bitterly as they joined the crowds descending the staircases back to the Great Hall and dinner. 

Professor Trelawney had finally snapped under the pressure of Ron’s cheeky comments and had assigned the entire class complicated star charts, which were to be completed, “by next Monday!”

Ron groaned. "That'll take all weekend, that will--" 

"Lots of homework?" said Hermione brightly, catching up with them in the hall. "Professor Vector didn't give us any at all!" 

"Well, bully for Professor Vector," said Ron moodily. They reached the entrance hall, which was packed with people queuing for dinner. They had just joined the end of the line, when a loud voice rang out behind them. 

"Weasley! Hey, Weasley!" Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were standing there, each looking thoroughly pleased about something. "What?" said Ron shortly. Harry felt something akin to dread coiling in his gut.

"Your dad's in the paper, Weasley!" said Malfoy, brandishing a copy of the Daily Prophet and speaking very loudly, so that everyone in the packed entrance hall could hear. "Listen to this! FURTHER MISTAKES AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC: ‘It seems as though the Ministry of Magic's troubles are not yet at an end,’ writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. ‘Recently under fire for its poor crowd control at the Quidditch World Cup, and still unable to account for the disappearance of one of its witches, the Ministry was plunged into fresh embarrassment yesterday by the antics of Arnold Weasley, of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office.’" 

Malfoy looked up. "Imagine them not even getting his name right, Weasley. It's almost as though he's a complete nonentity, isn't it?" he crowed. Everyone in the entrance hall was listening now. Malfoy straightened the paper with a flourish and read on: “‘Arnold Weasley, who was charged with possession of a flying car two years ago, was yesterday involved in a tussle with several Muggle law-keepers ("policemen") over a number of highly aggressive dustbins. Mr. Weasley appears to have rushed to the aid of "Mad-Eye" Moody, the aged ex-Auror who retired from the Ministry when no longer able to tell the difference between a handshake and attempted murder. Unsurprisingly, Mr. Weasley found, upon arrival at Mr. Moody's heavily guarded house, that Mr. Moody had once again raised a false alarm. Mr. Weasley was forced to modify several memories before he could escape from the policemen, but refused to answer Daily Prophet questions about why he had involved the Ministry in such an undignified and potentially embarrassing scene.’”

“And there's a picture, Weasley!" said Malfoy, flipping the paper over and holding it up. "A picture of your parents outside their house - if you can call it a house! Your mother could do with losing a bit of weight, couldn't she?" 

Ron was shaking with fury. Everyone was staring at him. "Get stuffed, Malfoy," said Harry angrily. "C'mon, Ron--" 

"Oh yeah, you were staying with them this summer, weren't you, Potter?" sneered Malfoy. "So tell me, is his mother really that porky, or is it just the picture?" 

"You know your mother, Malfoy?" said Harry in sudden fury--both he and Hermione had grabbed the back of Ron's robes to stop him from launching himself at Malfoy-- "that expression she's got, like she's got dung under her nose? Has she always looked like that, or was it just because you were with her?" 

Malfoy's pale face went slightly pink. "Don't you dare insult my mother, Potter." 

"Keep your fat mouth shut, then," said Harry, turning away, practically dragging Ron with him. 

BANG! 

Several people screamed--Harry felt something white-hot graze the side of his face--he plunged his hand into his robes for his wand, but before he'd even touched it, he heard a second loud BANG, and a roar that echoed through the entrance hall. 

"OH NO YOU DON'T, LADDIE!" Harry spun around. Professor Moody was limping down the marble staircase. His wand was out and it was pointing right at a pure white ferret, which was shivering on the stone-flagged floor, exactly where Malfoy had been standing. There was a terrified silence in the entrance hall. Nobody but Moody was moving a muscle. Moody turned to look at Harry -- at least, his normal eye was looking at Harry; the other one was pointing into the back of his head. "Did he get you?" Moody growled. His voice was low and gravelly. 

"No," said Harry, suddenly nervous, "missed." 

"LEAVE IT!" Moody shouted. 

"Leave--what?" Harry said, bewildered. 

"Not you--him!" Moody growled, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at Crabbe, who had just frozen, about to pick up the white ferret. It seemed that Moody's rolling eye was magical and could see out of the back of his head. Moody started to limp toward Crabbe, Goyle, and the ferret, which gave a terrified squeak and took off, streaking toward the dungeons. 

"I don't think so!" roared Moody, pointing his wand at the ferret again - it flew ten feet into the air, fell with a smack to the floor, and then bounced upward once more. "I don't like people who attack when their opponent's back's turned," growled Moody as the ferret bounced higher and higher, squealing in pain. 

"Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do..." The ferret flew through the air, its legs and tail flailing helplessly. "Never - do - that - again -" said Moody, speaking each word as the ferret hit the stone floor and bounced upward again. 

 

\--------

I stared on in bewildered shock. Had Lighting man ‘Professor Mody’ my inner voice reminded me--just turned a  _ student  _ into a  _ ferret?  _ And the answer was yes. 

Yes, he had. In front of the entire school, no less.

Draco Malfoy was currently playing the amazing bouncing ferret in this one-act play, squealing as he hit the flagstones again and again. Wasn’t this...wrong? As eccentric as wizards were, this was taking punishment to a whole new level--if the pain wasn’t enough, the public humiliation would be. I stepped forward to the front of the crowd. “Professor Moody!” I called out. The man whipped around to face me, his magical eye still turned in his head, looking at the white ferret which was suspended in the air. “Professor,” I continued, “is this a normal punishment for students?”

Moody locked carefully at me, as though trying to remember where he had seen me before. Or he could have been absorbing my strange choice of fashion--again, overcoats weren’t  _ weird.  _ They were comfortable, and practical.

“Students come here to learn. I’m just providing this coward with a valuable lesson.” he said gruffly, turning back to the ferret and raising his wand once more. 

“Professor!” I said once more, seeing that he was going back to his ‘lesson’ “I really don’t think this is what Albus had in mind when he invited you to take a teaching position at Hogwarts!” 

Moody paused, wand still held aloft. “Very few people, “ he said gruffly, “Can call Albus Dumbledore by his first name.” When he turned to face me, his eyes were filled with suspicion, and a glint of something else that I couldn’t recognize.

"Professor Moody!" a shocked voice broke the tension. Professor McGonagall was coming down the marble staircase with her arms full of books. 

"Hello, Professor McGonagall," said Moody calmly, still staring at me. 

"What--what are you doing?" said Professor McGonagall, her eyes sweeping past me and trailing along Moody’s wand arm to see the white ferret, which was still being suspended in the air. 

"Teaching," said Moody. 

"Teach--Moody, is that a student?" shrieked Professor McGonagall, the books spilling out of her arms and falling down the stairs. 

"Yep," said Moody. 

"No!" cried Professor McGonagall, running down the stairs and pulling out her wand; a moment later, with a loud snapping noise, Draco Malfoy had reappeared, lying in a heap on the floor with his sleek blond hair all over his now brilliantly pink face. He got to his feet, wincing. 

"Moody, we never use Transfiguration as a punishment!" said Professor McGonagall weakly. "Surely Professor Dumbledore told you that?" Moody glanced from me to Mcgonagall, and then back to me, before finally answering.

"He might've mentioned it, yeah," said Moody, scratching his chin unconcernedly, "but I thought a good sharp shock--" 

"We give detentions, Moody! Or speak to the offender's Head of House!" 

"I'll do that, then," said Moody, staring at Malfoy with great dislike. Malfoy, whose pale eyes were still watering with pain and humiliation, looked malevolently up at Moody and muttered something in which the words "my father" were distinguishable. 

I mentally applauded the kid’s bravery--or arrogance.

"Oh yeah?" said Moody quietly, limping forward a few steps, the dull clunk of his wooden leg echoing around the hall. "Well, I know your father, boy...I know thinks about him that would make even your greasy hair curl. You tell him Moody's keeping a close eye on his son...you tell him that from me...Now, your Head of House'll be Snape, will it?" 

"Yes," said Malfoy resentfully, taking a moment to glance at me in suspicion. I stared back placidly.

"Another old friend," growled Moody. "I've been looking forward to a chat with old Snape. Come on, you..." And he seized Malfoy's upper arm and marched him off toward the dungeons. I watched them go with no small amount of  satisfaction, though I almost felt bad for Malfoy. True, he had shot at Potter when Potter’s back was turned, but his spellcasting had in no way warranted this level of humiliation. Speaking of Potter...I stared at him, examining the dark curse that hung around him like a cloud. He was staring after Draco Malfoy, shock and glee warring on his face. His hands were still gripping the robes of his red-headed friend as he walked away, along with a bushy-haired girl.

I followed them discreetly through the crowd until they sat at the Gryffindor table.

"Don't talk to me," The red-head said quietly to Harry and the girl as they sat down at the, surrounded by excited talk on all sides about what had just happened. 

"Why not?" asked the bushy haired girl in surprise. I continued walking over, getting closer and closer to where the trio was sitting.

"Because I want to fix that in my memory forever," said the red-head, his eyes closed and an uplifted expression on his face. "Draco Malfoy, the amazing bouncing ferret." Harry and the girl both laughed, and the girl spoke. 

"He could have really hurt Malfoy, though," she said. "It was good, really, that Professor McGonagall stopped it--" I was close to the group now, almost right behind them.

"Hermione!" said the red head furiously, his eyes snapping open again, "you're ruining the best moment of my life!" 

“Actually,”I interrupted from behind the trio, “I think your friend is right.” I smiled and thrust my hand out to the girl--Hermione. “Alicia Peverell, at your service.” I said as she shook my hand in confusion. I thrust my hand across the table, towards Potter, who shook it with some hesitation, and then at the red-head, who glared at me before noticing the narrow-eyed stare Hermione was directing towards him. He shook my hand.

“May I sit?” I asked politely. True, sitting with the Hufflepuffs had ended...badly. But I was feeling reinvigorated after several hours of seclusion in the Library, and my satisfaction at the progress I was making had translated into a happy mood. Hermione shuffled awkwardly as I sat next to her, facing the red-head and Potter.

“I hate to sound rude,” I started, “but what are your names?” Potter looked at me with a tinge of shock, and perhaps a bit of hope, while Hermione brightened considerably.

“That’s right, you’re new aren’t you? Well, I’m Hermione Granger, and that’s” she gestured towards the red-head who was currently stuffing his face, “Ronald Weasley. And that’s…” she trailed off, as though she wasn’t sure if she should be the one to introduce the black-haired boy in front of me.

“Harry Potter.” he finished for her. I let a warm smile grace my features as I turned to Hermione. “Thank you.” I said happily. “Now, as for Malfoy’s punishment--well, I agree that what he did was wrong, but he was still subjected to a level of public humiliation that I’m sure the Headmaster would disagree with, and--”

“Wai’ a mi’ude!” Ron shouted through his mouthful of casserole, spraying food particles on his plate before swallowing. “Are you telling me that you don’t know Harry Potter?” he finally said, still trying to swallow his food.

I looked on in only partially faked confusion. “...Should I?” Now Potter and Hermione were both staring at me in shock, and I quickly backtracked. “I mean, I know about what peole say you did, but I don’t actually know  _ you.  _ So...I shouldn’t pretend to know who you are?” I finished, more of a question than a statement as I stared into Harry Potter’s wide green eyes. 

‘Green like the killing curse’ whispered some part of my mind. I told it to shut up.

“I wouldn’t mind getting to know the real you, though.” I finished lamely, trying not to notice the shock on the trio’s faces. Honestly, were all teenagers this easily surprised?

“Oh.” Potter said finally, as if what I had said just registered. Suddenly, two identical red-heads (with a remarkable resemblance to Ronald) came up behind Hermione and I. 

I suddenly felt a sinking feeling in my stomach.

Twin 1 (they could be brothers, like the Stolls, but their mirror-image tendencies convinced me they were twins) spoke. "Moody!" he said. "How cool is he?" 

"Beyond cool," answered twin 2, sitting down opposite of Twin 1. 

"Supercool," said another boy with dark skin and dreadlocks, sliding into the seat beside Twin 2. "We had him this afternoon," he told Harry and Ron. 

"What was it like?" said Harry eagerly. The twins and the boy exchanged looks full of meaning. "Never had a lesson like it," said Twin 1. 

"He knows, man," said the boy with dreadlocks. 

"Knows what?" said Ron, leaning forward. "Knows what it's like to be out there doing it," said Twin 2 impressively. 

"Doing what?" said Harry. 

"Fighting the Dark Arts," said Twin 1. 

"He's seen it all," said Twin 2.

"Mazing," said said dreadlock boy. 

Ron dived into his bag for his schedule. "We haven't got him till Thursday!" he said in a disappointed voice. Then the twins seemed to notice me. 

“Who’s this?” they asked together. The sinking feeling in my stomach turned into a bottomless pit as I contemplated all possible escape routes.

“Alicia Peverell.” Hermione answered for me. “She’s that new student the Headmaster introduced yesterday.

“Ah,” siad Twin 1. “I” he gestured to himself grandly “Am Fred. And this here is my brother,”

“George” continued Twin 2--er, George. “We can’t help but wonder,”

“Why someone as illustrious,”

“Spectacular,”

“And otherwise astounding as yourself,”

“Would choose to come to Hogwarts.”

I couldn’t tell if they were being sarcastic or not.

“Erm--studying.” I said quickly. These twins gave off the same aura as the Stoll brothers--which  _ wasn’t  _ comforting.

“Oho?” Fred’s face twisted. “My dear brother, it does appear,”

“That we have,”

“Another bookworm,”

“At Gryffindor table.” Hermione’s face flushed, but it was a pleased sort of flush. Like she was happy to be recognized for her efforts. Meanwhile, I stared at them with one eyebrow raised.

“It also appears, “ I said slowly, “That Hogwarts has its own pair of pranksters.”

“Indeed” said George.

“We are,”

“the pranking”

“Kings!”

I laughed. “I look forward to seeing your work.” I smiled at them and turned to face Ronald, Potter, and Hermione. “It was nice meeting you. Granger, Weasley. Potter. I hope you all have a wonderful evening” I got up from the table and made it halfway to the dungeons before I realized I didn’t know where I was going. After a long moment of contemplation, I decided to the Headmaster’s office. 

I had things to discuss with Albus anyway.

\--------

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was  _ slightly  _ concerned. Not really. But just enough that he decided to keep an eye on Alicia, to watch what she was doing around the students. He couldn’t really tell what Alicia was feeling as she talked at Huflepuff table. He suspected she was uncomfortable around the students--after all, though she  _ looked  _ about their age, she was, in fact,  _ much  _ older than anyone else in the castle, perhaps including the castle itself.

No, Dumbledore had no idea what Alicia Peverall was feeling--though he suspected it had something to do with revenge as she turned her gaze on the Head table and, finding him seated amongst the teachers, glared.

Dinnertime had a bit more satisfying, as Alicia had not once looked his way. In fact, she had seemed rather engrossed with her newest acquaintances at Gryffindor table--young Ronald, Hermione, and, most importantly, Harry. Dumbledore had resisted the urge to cast a simple listening spell, knowing from experience that his magic would be felt by the mysterious Ms. Peverell.

He would be the first to admit his reservations at having Alicia Peverell stay in Hogwarts, surrounded by schoolchildren. However, something had compelled his to allow her to stay at Hogwarts (he later justified her presence, thinking that she would be a good Guardian for the alway-in-danger Harry Potter).

When she finally made her way out of the Great Hall, he decided that, perhaps, it was time to retire as well.

He did _ NOT _ expect to find Alicia waiting for him in his office.

\--------

Albus stood in the doorway for a few minutes before making his way inside the room. I continued perusing his collection of delicate, silver instruments--was that a soul-catcher?--as he sat behind his parchment-strewn desk.

“Ms. Peverell.” He said finally, adjusting his glasses. “How curious to see you again.”

I hummed in response, still gazing at the soul-catcher. There were supposed to only be three of these in existence, each made my the famous half-goblin wizard craftsman Hector Pekerloft.

“May I ask what you are doing here?” Albus asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. I smiled and turned away from the table of silvery instruments. 

“I have questions.” I said.

“Then perhaps, together, we can find some answers.” He responded, reaching into his pocket for his favorite Muggle sweet. “Lemon drop?” he offered. I shook my head.

“Our discussion yesterday was short.” I said. “There’s still too much I need to know, and too much I need access to.”

“If this is about my personal library, I assure you that--”

“No.” I cut him off. “The teachers. I need to know the teachers. I’m getting to know the students. I need to research. And for the love of all things logical, I need a bloody map.” I growled out, trying to make sense of my jumbled thoughts. “I also need to know what being Potter’s Guardian entails.” I said as an afterthought.

“Well,” Albus said, steepling his fingers, “I can arrange a meeting with the staff--though I am unsure what to tell them about your situation. I am sure you do not wish for rumors of your longevity to circulate,” I nodded my head in agreement, “so the teachers will be operating under the impression that you are the same as any other teenager, though a bit more mature.” He said, eyes twinkling with silent laughter.

“I’m an independent researcher from a distant branch of the Peverell family. Simple story, simple background.”

“Not so simple, I’m afraid.” Albus interrupted. “You see, the Peverell line is extinct”--”I know that” I huffed--”and as the only known heir to the Peverell line, your mysterious background will attract attention. It would be worse if you looked seventeen, or wer ‘of age’.”

“Let me handle that.” I said. “I’ve dealt with inquiries before. I know families at the ministry, though I haven’t talked to them in years. Just introduce me to the staff so they know my position here at Hogwarts.”

“You are a guest.” Dumbledore said sternly. 

“I know that. But they won’t think of my as anything but a bumbling First-year if you don’t vouch for me.”

Albus sighed. “Very well then.” I walked over to one of his bookcases and trailed my hand along the beautiful wood. Titles lined up in rows like perfect little soldiers, their different shapes and sizes adding the perfect splash of individuality. “Have you found the Library, yet?” he asked warmly.

“Yes.” I smiled as I remembered the thousands upon thousands of books that filled Hogwarts’ library shelves. “I’ve begun my research--reviewing magical theories first, of course. It should only take me month before I’m ready to make any significant progress.”  
“Your research would likely go faster if you were willing to accept my help.” I sighed in frustration.

“There are some things wizards aren’t meant to know.” I said tightly, and that was that for a while. The whirring and puffing of Dumbledore’s silver instruments were the only things that filled the silence as I closely examined other parts of his room. The moving portraits were mostly empty, their occupant apparently having better things to do at this time of night. Decorative arches reached into the ceiling, brushing against columns of stone that stood out against the simple brick walls. Windows shone in the dim light, torchlight reflecting against the glass. The torches themselves were more like braviers, heavy stone works of art that were set strategically along the walls. The regs on the ground felt soft beneath my worn shoes, and I almost felt bad for stepping on them before I remembered who had given Albus these rugs in the first place. Dumbledore peered at me from over his half-moon spectacles as I casually examined his office. This time, I was the first to break the silence.

“I want to know what being Potter’s Guardian entails.” I said, staring straight into Albus’ blue eyes.

“Well, at its most general, being Harry’s Guardian means that you will protect the boy. However, there are some magical aspects to the title.” I narrowed my eyes at that, not remembering that particular detail from our conversation last night.

“And what do those magical aspects include?” I said carefully, eyes still narrowed at the slightly-smug looking Headmaster. 

“Well, should you fully accept the magical role as Harry’s Guardian, you will be responsible for his welfare, his lodgings, and his identity within and without the Wizarding World. You will become his Magical Guardian.”

I raised an eyebrow. Albus had said that ‘should I accept the magical role,’ which meant I hadn’t doomed myself without my knowledge. “Why can’t you be Harry’s Magical Guardian?” I asked. Dumbledore had spouted something about being potter’s ‘Mentor’ instead, but something told me there was more to it than that.

“I am biased when it comes to Harry.” Dumbledore said, rising from his seat behind the desk and making his way around it, towards me. “I must teach him  to protect himself and those around him, and to do that, I cannot also be responsible for his safety.” I bit my cheek at that. “I have also made...mistakes in the past that I deeply regret. My guilt would force me to protect and indulge the one who may be able to save us all.” His eyes misted a bit as he mentioned his ‘mistakes’. I wondered what they had been for a moment before I snapped back to the present, Albus standing three feet in front of me. “I have known you since I was a boy.” he continued speaking, though he had stopped moving. “You helped Gellert and I, even when we refused to listen. I know I can trust you to do the same for Harry.” his voice took on a pleading undertone as he raised his eyes to meet mine, no mental probes coming to attack my shields for once.

I should have contemplated Dumbledore’s apparent desperation. I should have paused and thought the issue through, asked more questions, explored my suspicion and skepticism.

Instead, I took two steps forward and asked, “So how does this work?”

Albus smiled one of his real smiles before raising his wand and offering his left hand. I met it with my own and suddenly felt the thrum of magic pulse around us. I shivered at the feeling of magic filling my senses, wrapping around me like thick chains. Dumbledore’s wand danced as he drew runes in the air, casting a spell I didn’t recognize. Then, he spoke: 

“Do you, Alicia Peverell, agree to take on the duties of Harry James Potter’s magical Guardian? To protect and care for the boy until he comes of age and is ready to accept his Fate? To remember him in every action you take, lest your carelessness harm him in some manner?”

Magic pushed away any thoughts, leaving only two answers in my head. I struggled against it for the sake of struggling, but eventually gave in.

“I do.” the magic receded, pleased with my answer.

“So mote it be.” Dumbledore intoned gravely, his wand flicking once to dispel the thick aura of magic that had settled around us. I felt heavy chains, cold to the touch, around me for one second before they were gone. I let out a large breath as stumbled to the nearest bookcase, dizzy from the after effects of being surrounded by so much magic. I felt the oath weighing against my soul now, and I suspected it would continue to do so until Harry was dead or of=age, whichever came first.

“How do you feel?” asked an elderly voice from somewhere to my left. I batted my hand at the presence I felt there. “Like I just got flushed down a toilet, pushed off the top of Mt. Everest, and run over by a stampede of wildebeest. In that order.” I groaned and waited for the books in front of me to stop spinning. 

“Perhaps it is time to turn in.” Albus said, noting my wobbling body with concern. “Perhaps you would like to visit the hospital Wing?”  
“Hospital Wing,” I muttered, “dungeons, Great Hall, Library. You know what I need?” I slurred, finally able to stand straight, “A map!” I snarled. “Bloody castle changes all the time, _moving staircases, moving portraits._ Nothing makes _sense._ ” I blamed the after effects of being surrounded by so much magic for my irritable mood. And the fact that the castle _didn’t_ make sense. At all.

“Perhaps we can arrange that, along with a staff introduction. In the meantime, I believe you really should visit the Hospital Wing. Moppy!” Another house elf appeared, this one different from Mathilde. Albus turned to me as though he had read my mind. “I’m afraid Mathilde is out running errands this evening.” He turned to the elf. “Moppy, please escort Miss Peverell to Madame Pomfrey for magical overexposure.” He said, eying the way my head was held in my hand. 

“Yessir, Headmaster!” squeaked the house elf “Come along now, Missus.” the creature grabbed my hand and unceremoniously dragged me from the room. I stumbled along behind her a we climbed up and down a hellish amount of stairs to reach the fourth floor. Moppy led me inside and disappeared, only to reappear a few seconds later with an irate-looking woman who was dressed in a 1930’s nursing uniform. 

She took one looked at my swaying body and unfocused eyes and ushered my to an empty bed, muttering diagnostic charms under breath (a few of which I recognized). She tut-tutted under her breath and scurried off to grab a sickly green potion, which she told me to “Drink, unless you want me to spell it down your throat.” 

I obliged, scowling at her as I chugged the disgusting-tasting liquid--I didn’t think there was anything that could taste like troll toenails and unwashed gym socks--and complied as she told me to “Get some sleep. You’ll be needing it.” She drew the curtains around my bed, but didn’t leave the room as she tended to the only other patient in the room, a small-looking child who had horrible yellow pustules all over their face. Moppy had disappeared at some point, most likely going back to the kitchens that Mathilde had told me about.

I lay back in the bed, resigned to sleep as I noticed how bleary my sight was becoming.

I regretted shutting my eyes.

\--------

_ Screams tore through the air as the thunder of hooves rumbled across the battlefield. The clang of weapons sounded in the distance, hardly audible through the muffled walls of the tent. _

_ I was trapped there, unable to do anything against the iron chains that wrapped around me like a cruel blanket. There was no warmth here. _

_ Only Death. _

_ Bright light filtered into the darkness as the tent flap was opened. I flinched away, the brightness burning me.  _

_ “Hello there.” The voice belonged to a man, but the words sounded strange, filtered through something. He had an accent I didn’t recognize. The tent flap closed, but the man held a burning torch that danced against his features. His skin was the color of hazelnut, his eyes brown and his head wrapped in some sort of turban. I paid no attention to the fire. _

_ I hadn’t learned to fear it yet. _

_ The man lifted the torch towards me and examined my bedraggled figure. I didn’t know how long it had been since they’d caught me, stumbling around the newly-conquered battlefield, horrified by the dead bodies that lay strewn about like broken ragdolls. _

_ I hadn’t meant to be there. I had been travelling, like I had since the Peverell brothers had left me. I had been walking along the edge of the forest when suddenly it was there, like a terrible painting; carnage in its most basic form. Weapons glinted in the light as I stared out in shock, my frazzled mind ignored by a body that moved on its own accord, walking straight into the cruel tableau. _

_ I hadn’t even noticed the horsemen coming towards me until a spear lodged itself in my chest. _

_ They hadn’t killed me. _

_ “You are quite the curious little creature.” the man continued, the torchlight now glinting off his golden bands and rings and decorations.  _

_ “You will be a worthy prize for my Sultan.” _

_ I wished they had. _

\--------

The sheets were twisted around me when I awoke, my clothes soaked and sticking to my skin. I tried to calm my breathing and grasped my shaking hands, folding them tight against my body.

It had been a dream.

It was funny when I realized that. It had all felt so  _ real.  _ It always did.

I needed another potion.

Sunlight streamed through the curtains as I pulled them open, trying not to fall back on my bed. I felt better than I had when I had come in last night--I couldn’t remember much of what happened, just the dizziness and the nausea, and the ground spinning like a top. The room  had a white tile floor and rows of beds, all of which were empty. Next to my bed was a table, which had a piece of parchment on top of it. I braced my self against the table with one hand and grasped the parchment with the other, unfolding it carefully. A note slipped out:

 

_ You might find this useful. _

 

It wasn’t signed, but I knew who had sent it. The parchment contained some sort of map, though I could only search one floor at a time. The map was animated, with moving staircases and myriad of useful secret passages that I hadn’t noticed yet. Other than the moving portions of the castle, the map was blank, sitting like some sort of magical blueprint of Hogwarts castle.

I privately thanked Albus in my headas I tucked the map into one of my overcoat pockets. Even if it didn’t show my location, it would definitely be useful in figuring out my way around the castle, especially the dungeons. 

I pushed myself off of the bedside table, somehow managing to stay upright as I made my way towards the door to the Hospital Wing. Judging from the amount of light outside the tall gothis windows, it was either early morning or late evening ( I sincerely hoped it was not the latter, since that would mean I had slept an entire day away). I could almost tast freedom as I hobbled my way towards the doors before I was stopped by a stern “Ahem.”

The voice was matronly, and definitely  _ not  _ happy. I resisted the urge to run as I turned around slowly, trying to ignore the nervous twinge in my stomach, and rested my eyes on a face that seemed (vaugely) familiar.

The nurse who had given me those horrible potions when i was brought in--Madame Pomfrey, was it?--stood before me, arms crossed and hand twitching towards her wand. 

“Ahem.” she cleared her throat again.

“Hello.” I said sheepishly, wincing as my voice croakek. Her eyes narrowed.

“Now, then,” she said sternly, “What are you doing out of bed?”

“Erm…” my eyes darted around the room, looking for an excuse until they settled on the light peeping through the Hospital windows. “Going to breakfast?” I asked. 

She harrumphed, finally pulling out her wand. “Breakfast doesn’t start for another hour. Now, why don’t you take a seat--” she steered me back to my bed, “--while I run some diagnostic charms?”

It wasn’t really a question, since she was muttering spells before I could even respond.

“Do you have a history of sensitivity to magic?” she asked, stil waving her wand around.

“Yes.” I answered, truthfully. I was able to see the runes of Hogwarts’ warding spells and could pick out Harry Potter in a crowd based in the dark curse that hung over his head. I’d say I was pretty sensitive to magic.

She hummed in response, waving her wand around my haed for some reason. “Well,” she said as she finished up the last of the diagnostic charms, “I’d say you were in perfect health if I couldn’t see how popped-off you are. The spells I’m casting clearly show that there’s nothing wrong with you  _ physically _ . Unfortunately, sensitivity to magical particles delves deeper into the mind magics than I’m comfortable with. The best I can do for you at this point is to tell you to get plenty of rest and avoid flashy spells for a few days.” She peered at me with steely blue eys. “What, if you don’t mind me asking, were you doing that caused your magical senses to overload so completely?”

Her gaze felt like it was piercing into my very soul--like I couldn’t escape it, no matter where I hid or how far I ran. “Erm...if the Headmaster hasn’t told you, I don’t think I should.” This was Dumbledore’s mess--he could help clean it up. Besides, every minute this woman spent angry at him was a minute less she would be angry at me.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have read this far, drop a comment, tell me what I'm doing wrong (or right, I'm not picky). Let me know there's other human beings out there. Unless you're an alien, in which case I would advise you not to judge humanity based on fanfiction sites.


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